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MEMORIAL 

1 



OF 



LT. DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY, 



OF TBE TWENTY-FIFTH REGIMENT 



CONNECTICUT VOLUNTEERS 



C ^ T t. \ \v\ ^. L- \ O U d 




HARTFORD: 

PRESS OF CASE, LOCKWOOD & COMPANY. 

1864. 



y 



•Tl ri 



A.rt thou faitlifial P tlien oppose 
Sin and wrong \vitli all tliy miglit; 

Care not Iioav the tempest t)lo\vs. 
Only care to win the fight. 

Lyka Germanica. 



A.nd. wheresoe'er in earth's 'wid.e field 
Ye lift for Hiixi the red-cross shield. 
Be this yonr song, yonr joy and pride, 
** Onr Champion -went before and died.' 



Keble's Christian Year. 



INTRODUCTION 



When this fearful war shall be ended, and 
this broad land, from one end to the other, shall 
echo to the " bells of cheer " as they '' ring 
peace and freedom in ; " when our cities, towns 
and villages shall receive their own again, saved 
from the bloody fields of strife ; and when house- 
holds are made more than happy by the welcome 
footsteps of returning fathers, husbands, sons 
and brethren, kindred and friends, it will be 
with us as it was with Judah of old when the 
captivity of Zion was released from its bondage ; 
we shall be like them that dream — our heart so 
filled with transport, our mouth will be filled 
with laughter, and our tongue with singing ; — 
we shall rehearse the mighty deliverances as one 
after another tells his thrilling story, and we 
shall respond to each other, as they did to the 
exclamations of the wondering heathen around 
them, " Yea, the Lord hath done great things 
for us, whereof we rejoice." 
1* 



6 INTRODUCTION. 

But in many a once happy home, silence and 
mourning must take the place of joy and exulta- 
tion, for however much the heart may sympa- 
thize in the general joy, still it must ache while 
the wounds are yet bleeding over its own lost 
treasures — its most cherished hopes blighted, 
its brightest anticipations darkened in perpetual 
gloom — for a father, a husband, a son, a broth- 
er, a kinsman, a friend, who went forth with 
those armies, returns not, or he is borne silently 
homeward only to be laid in a grave upon his 
native soil, and to rest where those who loved 
him in life may come to weep with bitter tears 
over the mysterious and terrible necessity which 
claimed a sacrifice so priceless to their souls. 
But to confine our minds to the present state of 
our country, and to look back upon what has 
already made desolate one home after another, 
is enough for busy thought and wondering in- 
quiry, when young men of so much promise for 
any and all the duties and responsibilities of life, 
are cut down in their early morning, as they have 
been in this dreadful war. There is but one 
consolation — God, the fountain of wisdom and 
the father of mercy, has suffered it to be so, and 
we must bow in submission to that which now 
we can not understand. 

While we are saying these things, one sad 
household with its bereaved mother, its younger 



INTRODUCTION. 7 

sister and brothers, its circle of friends and kin- 
dred, rises before us. A first-born son has been 
taken from its number, and nothing now remains 
to it but " the silent picture on the wall," the 
garments, the books, and the letters which so 
faithfully and so continually revealed his affec- 
tionate love and care for all that belonged to 
home and its cherished inmates, showing that 
he was the one who brought sunshine and hap- 
piness to it and was as a tower of strength to her 
who bore him. 

This was Daniel Perkins Dewey, of Hartford, 
Connecticut, whose remains, within the past few 
months, have been restored to his family, after 
lying for months near the battle-field where he 
fell. He was a young man of so much promise, 
known and beloved by so large a circle of rela- 
tions and friends, so honored by his companions 
in school, in college, and in the army, that his 
death has called forth from the voice and from 
the pen of military superiors, and from compan- 
ions and friends, a general tribute of praise to 
his character, and of sorrow at his early removal 
from us. These testimonials are now gath- 
ered up, and, with other remembrances of a life 
that was indeed like the flower that cometh up 
and is cut down in the very opening of its beauty, 
are here presented to those who mourn its 
short existence as a consolation to their sorrow. 



8 INTRODUCTION. 

We would also claim the attention of the young 
to this brief memorial, hoping that they may 
profit by the bright and noble example which it 
places before them. 



MEMORIAL. 



Daniel Perkins Dewey, eldest son of Daniel 
S. and Elizabeth Perkins Dewey, was born at 
Hartford, Connecticut, June 18th, 1843. He was 
baptized in his infancy, by the Rev. George Bur- 
gess, the present bishop of Maine, and con- 
firmed by Bishop Clarke, of Rhode Island, when 
he was eighteen years old. As a child he 
was docile and obedient, quick in his percep- 
tions of right and wrong, and of great facility 
even then, in acquiring knowledge ; of a sensi- 
tive and delicate nature, he preferred the quiet 
corner with his book, or to interest himself at 
home with his younger brother, rather than to 
mingle in the usual out-door amusements of 
boys of his own age. " Yet," says his mother, 
" he was no coward ; for while he would turn 
silently away from children who sought to draw 
him into a quarrel, he often avenged the insults 
offered those who were weaker or smaller than 
their oppressors. He was a boy who spoke the 
truth and held all sacred things in reverence^ 
evincing in the religious duties and observances 
which are required of children, a reverent com- 
posure of mind which might well belong to ma- 



10 A MEMORIAL OF 

turer years. There is but one voice from those 
who had the care of his education — from the 
milder sway of female authority to the discipline 
of high school and college — concerning his dispo- 
sition, his facility in acquiring knowledge, and 
his exemplary demeanor." 

" I remember him," says his teacher, Mr. Har- 
ris, principal of the South District School, " when 
a lad of twelve years, as he entered his class 
with similar attainments to those associated with 
him ; a few terms pass by and I find him leading 
his class, exhibiting signs of a deep and clear 
thinker ; the reason why, must always be given 
to the truth of any statement. 

Doubtless his classmates will remember his 
clear explanations of difficult questions, and 
when doubt was expressed, how ready was he 
with page and section to prove his position. 

When placed in trying positions he was equal 
to his task, always sustaining the right and put- 
ting down the wrong — always thoughtful and 
reliable as a pupil. He passed through success- 
ive terms, sustaining himself in the first rank in 
scholarship and deportment. When he left for the 
high school he was amongst the first in his class." 

" And," adds Mr. Harris, " my young friend 
who sacrificed the pleasures of home, society, 
friends, and loved pursuits to serve his country, 
defend its flag, its honor, its institutions, and to 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 11 

give up his life, if need be, to perpetuate the privi- 
leges, which we now enjoy, to future generations, 
will be remembered by his companions in arms, 
who fought by his side when he fell a brave de- 
fender of those principles which have made us a 
free, happy and prosperous nation." 

After a few years with this estimable teacher, 
he was received into the High School in Hart- 
ford. And to the high position in scholarship 
and in character to which he attained in that 
institution we give the unqualified and eloquent 
testimonial of the principal, Mr. T. W. T. Cur- 
tis, from a communication addressed to the 
mother of young Dewey. 

" Immediately after joining the school he took 
high rank as a scholar. This was the result in 
part of superior natural gifts, in part of earnest 
application. He possessed a vigorous, logical, 
easy-working mind. To think was for him not 
a labor, but a luxury. He rejoiced in whatever 
was athletic, whether involving mental or phys- 
ical effort. His associates and his duties sup- 
plied the stimulus suited to an aspiring nature 
conscious of power to rise to high attainment in 
whatever is noble and worthy. 

His spirit as a student was calm, patient, and 
determined. He never surrendered. He was 
not demonstrative. He made no parade of his 
purposes, but quietly addressed himself to them 



12 A MEMORIAL OF 

with an earnestness of resolution, a pertinacity 
of spirit and an intelligence of method, which 
uniformly achieved success. 

Perhaps his most prominent trait as a student 
was thoroughness. He was ill at ease till the 
whole of a subject was perfectly understood. 

In his intercourse with his school-mates he 
was social and cordial, always happy to oblige 
others, and relishing with zest all manly sports, 
while his self-respect and native dignity of char- 
acter refused to find gratification in whatever 
was low, puerile, or simply mischievous. 

To his teachers he was always courteous and 
deferential, though never obsequious or court- 
ing their favor. On the other hand, I am sure 
that all his teachers, from the beginning to the 
close of their connection with him, respected 
and loved him. For myself I can say that I am 
able to recall nothing in all his career that I 
would wish had been different. 

The personal qualities which I think he most 
commonly impressed others as possessing, were a 
genuine manliness, nobleness, truthfulness, hon- 
or, fidelity and courage, both physical and moral. 

His character as a Christian was of the best 
type. There was nothing in it that was spas- 
modic or excitable. His religious Hfe was calm 
and deep, yet daily manifest to all. 

He was earnest, devoted and influential. 



'Zf 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 13 

There are many who cherish his memory with 
affection, who remember his words of private 
counsel and his active interest in the weekly 
prayer-meeting of the school. 

I can not forbear to mention an incident, tri- 
fling perhaps, yet significant, as illustrating the 
consistency of his Christian character and his 
courage. 

During a summer vacation in the Adiron- 
dacks, he unexpectedly joined my camp, together 
with a companion. There were several rough 
back- woodsmen, hunters, and guides, attached 
to our party. The first time I had occasion to 
notice his personal habit, he had returned from 
a late evening hunt. As he took his place for 
the night amidst that group of rude men, he did 
not forget his mother's God, but quietly and de- 
liberately, as in his own room at home, addressed 
himself in prayer to that good Being who loves 
to meet his children in the wilderness as well as 
at the fire-side altar. I can not soon forget that 
picture. 

Such, in meagre outline, was one known, hon- 
ored and beloved by the best young men in his 
native city. 

It is not strange that so generous, so noble a 

nature understood and heeded the wailing cry 

of his suffering country. And thus another 

young life, so rich in gifts and full of promise 

2 



14 A MEMORIAL OF 

was cheerfully offered to his God and accepted 
in consecration to that cause already made 
sacred by the sacrificial blood of America's 
noblest sons." 

To the incident mentioned by Mr. Curtis, 
we may add one of a like character to show 
that the same earnest, childlike faith remained 
unaltered as the years of this pure-minded, 
thoughtful boy were ripening into manhood ; 
and, besides, to show to all faithful mothers 
the ineffaceable impression which their lessons 
given in early childhood, may make upon the 
hearts of their children. After his enlistment, 
while in camp at Hartford, as his mother was 
leaving him, after a visit to his tent, he asked 
her if she remembered a hymn she had taught 
him beginning " Jesus, tender Shepherd, hear 
me" — and said, " I always repeat it every night, 
that, and " Now I lay me." 

Is there a person, we might almost say in all 
Christendom, who does not know that simple 
prayer — 

" Now I lay me down to sleep 
I pray the Lord my soul to keep, 

If I should die before I wake 

I pray the Lord ray soul to take." 

the first one almost that is taught to lisping 

infancy, and the one which is never forgotten ? 

And many a hoary head is nightly laid 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 15 

down under its blessing, while for a moment 
perhaps, a mother's voice comes back again, 
through the long, long years that have passed 
awaj, and the man of might is a little child 
again before his Maker — and well he may be, 
for when he lays him down to unconscious 
sleep, where is all the power and the wisdom 
and the superiority which raise him above the 
condition of the little defenceless child ? 

The hymn too, is of the same character and 
is too beautiful in its confiding faith and sim- 
plicity to be omitted. 

" Jesus, tender Sheplierd, hear me, 

Bless thy littlelamb to-night ; 
Through the darkness be thou near me, 

Watch my sleep till morning light. 

All this day thy hand hath led me, 

And I thank thee for thy care. 
Thou hast watched me, warmed me, fed me. 

Listen to my evening prayer. 

Let my sins be all forgiven, 

Bless the friends I love so well, 
Take me when T die to Heaven, 

Happy there with Thee to dwell." 

This hymn, so simple and confiding in its 
tone, may seem to some minds almost puerile 
when repeated as a prayer with which a man 
and a soldier commends himself into the keep- 



16 A MEMORIAL OP 

ing of the great Lord of all, but in another 
aspect it reveals a soul of true greatness. The 
higher a man rises in the knowledge of the 
majesty of God, the deeper will be his humility 
before him. Our Saviour addressed his disci- 
ples as " little children," yet they were hardy 
men inured to a life of toil and danger — and 
to those who humble themselves as little chil- 
dren, is the promise given of being " the great- 
est in the kingdom of Heaven." 

While young Dewey was in the High School, 
under the supervision of Mr. Curtis, it became 
his task to compose one of the exercises for a 
public exhibition, and being in doubt as to the 
choice of a subject he took a dictionary, say- 
ing to his mother, " I will shut my eyes and 
put my finger upon a word and take that for 
my subject." The word thus indicated wsls frank- 
incense, and to show the sober-minded thought, 
and the great beauty of illustration with which 
a school boy could investigate and present a 
subject freshly brought to his own mind, we 
give the whole composition. 

"frankincense. 

An apparently barren subject. What can be said 
of a *dry resinous substance,' as Webster describes 
it. Well, let us look at it before we so hastily pass 
judgment upon it. * A dry resinous substance of a 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 17 

pale yellow color.' Truly its appearance is rather 
uninteresting. It presents nothing interesting to the 
sight or to the touch ; it is harsh and bitter to the 
taste ; it does not attract the other senses ; yet shall 
we therefore discard it as unworthy of our notice ? 
Firmly convinced, as I am, that there is nothing in 
existence however insignificant, which will not repay 
a careful examination, I am not satisfied to leave it 
thus. We must look beyond its mere outward appear- 
ance and aspect, for by these we are often misled. 
Who would imagine that the lowly arbutus possessed 
such an exquisite fragrance as that with which it 
greets the close examiner? The appearance of one 
of the most delicious dishes upon the epicure's table 
would never indicate that its component parts once 
graced the body of a huge green frog. No one would 
imagine from the mere sight of Plymouth rock that 
it is of any more consequence than the pavement 
which we tread in our daily walks. Pearls dwell in 
oysters. The most beautiful flower is contained within 
the rough coat of a seed; the apparently light and 
powerless cloud of steam contains the mightiest prin- 
ciple of locomotion with which we are acquainted. 
And can we not search out in our subject some hidden 
qualification to attract our attention ? Let us see. 
Why did the follower of Mohammed look with so 
much reverence and respect upon his holy city, Mecca? 
Why does the American feel such enthusiasm at the 
sight of his country's flag in a foreign land ? Why 
does each one of us regard with such peculiar feelings 
some particular spot, some trifling article in our pos- 
2* 



18 A MEMORIAL OF 

session, some one passage in the book of our lives ? 
It is because of the associations connected with it, be- 
cause of the feehngs it arouses within us. Mecca was 
the city of the Mohammedan's prophet. He is taught 
from his infancy to reverence it because it was once 
the home of the founder of his faith. The American 
rejoices at the sight of the ' stars and stripes,' for it 
tells him of home and of his native country. He hails 
it as a mark of his nation's glory and the ensign of 
his own freedom. And so we call to mind, as we visit 
a certain locality, the occurrence which here took 
place. We remember the occasion marked by some 
trifling memento. And the return of some particular 
day brings with it the recollection pleasing or sad of 
what on this day took place long before. 

But what associations cluster around this yellow 
gum ? What thought does it bring to our mind as we 
gaze upon its unpromising exterior ? Place a piece 
of it in the hand of the next person you may see, and 
ask him to tell you what he can about it. Perhaps 
this person may be a lover of history, and should it 
be the case his discourse might take somewhat the 
form of the following : — More than three thousand 
years ago, a great nation, the Children of Israel, jour- 
neyed through the wilderness to Mount Sinai, and then 
and there they received from God through their 
prophet. His commands as to the method in which they 
should perform the service of His house. There they 
received all their grand old ceremonial forms and usa- 
ges which marked them as a peculiar people, and so 
clearly distinguished them from the Gentile nations 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 19 

about them. And one of the prominent particulars 
of this service was the burning continually upon the 
golden altar this substance, frankincense — and for fif- 
teen hundred years its fragrant clouds rose perpetually 
towards Heaven, filling those sacred courts with em- 
blematic prayer and praise, and bearing upward the 
fervent petitions of kneeling multitudes, teaching both 
Pharisee and Publican that so his heart should ascend 
in all faith and sincerity to his Almighty Creator and 
Protector ; that so his own good deeds should rise as 
a perpetual incense before his God. But at the end 
of this time a new light broke upon the world, and the 
Messiah came. He instituted the reality in the place 
of the emblem in the service of His Church. But the 
Jews were too strongly attached to their ceremonial 
law and they resisted its abolition, and how they re- 
sisted we all know. They slew their king, and in a 
few short years the Roman legions, under Vespasiam, 
were thronging the streets of the holy city — their 
beautiful temple was destroyed by the sacrilegious 
hands of pagan soldiers. And there the ceremonial 
law virtually perished, and from thenceforth the Jews 
were a scattered people, their rehgion was without a 
home. But the burning of incense was again revived 
in the Christian Church, and at this present day its 
fragrant perfume rises from a thousand censers swung 
by the priests of Rome throughout all the world. 
From all the magnificent cathedrals of Europe, from 
the less pretending churches of our own land, from 
the simple edifice of the Roman mission in the far off 



20 A MEMORIAL OF 

wilds, such symbolic prayer and praise is continually 
taking its way skyward — Heavenward we will not say. 

These, perhaps, might be the words of the histo- 
rian upon this subject, and as they fall upon our own 
ears they would naturally arouse ideas in us were we 
the champion of any religious dogma, or inclined to 
discuss different beliefs ; we might enter upon long dis- 
quisitions upon the doctrines and usages of the Jew- 
ish Church, we might enlarge upon the merits or 
demerits of Romanism, or taking the duties of the 
moralist, we might draw many useful and instructive 
lessons from this short sketch. Were we architects, 
or sculptors, or artists, the very mention of the splen- 
did buildings of Europe would be sufficient to rouse 
all our attention and call forth all our knowledge and 
feelings upon our favorite theme. The scholar easily 
discovers in the subject much for future inquiry. The 
poet will always find a theme congenial to his nature 
in that which to others seems very barren. But all 
these have little to do with our subject. So we must 
take only those ideas which have a nearer relation 
to it. 

We find that wherever it has been in use in all reli- 
gious services, that its good qualities have been devel- 
oped by the touch of fire, that in its natural state its 
odor is not remarkably agreeable or pungent, but when 
exposed to the action of fire, it takes a new form, en- 
tirely changed and made suitable for the service to 
which it is applied. Fii^e works the important altera- 
tion. And so it is with mankind in the course of life. 
Men are like frankincense, for they need the all-pow- 



DANIEL. PERKINS DEWEY. 21 

erful touch o^ Jire to bring out the salient point in 
their character and to form the noble elements of their 
character into a harmonious structure of real great- 
-ness. The hot fire of raging disease develops in us 
all our patient endurance and subdues the fierce pas- 
sions of our nature. Our fortitude and calmness are 
best declared by our conduct when suffering from the 
racking torture of intense bodily pain. The fire of 
terrible afliiction brings into action all our submission 
and faith. And what is more noble, more manly, what 
better evinces all our firmness of character and self 
restraint than the curbing in the human heart the 
fierce fire of angry passions? Were it not for the 
trying fire our most noble characteristics would never 
be developed. Where do we find the finest character ? 
From whence come all the old martyrs and heroes and 
reformers ? What developed the energy and resolution 
of their spirits ? It was the fire of persecution and 
opposition. What has roused the greatest champions 
of freedom, both political and religious ? The fiery 
oppression of an overbearing tyranny. And so the 
noble and manly in our nature, like the qualities of 
frankincense, are brought out by the magic action of 
fire, and were it not for this subtle element many great 
characters would never have illuminated this earth by 
their brilliant examples. But unlike frankincense in 
one respect the fire of trial and necessity and afflic- 
tion and persecution, does not destroy, it only purifies 
and renders more vivid and brilliant the simple gold 
of nature on which it takes its effect. 

With the abolishment of the ceremonial law of the 



22 A MEMORIAL OF 

Jewish Church the emblematic worship before that 
time in full force was ended, and in its place the 
reality was substituted. One last great offering fin- 
ished the sacrificial form. The burning of incense 
upon the altar was supplanted by the real, fervent 
prayers of pious worshippers and by the voluntary, 
spontaneous praise of the pure heart and of all the 
world, animate and inanimate. Would you see some 
of the frankincense of nature that rises continually 
from our beautiful Earth ? You have only to walk 
abroad at any time and you may see it in all its beauty 
if your heart is not entirely bound down by the worldly 
ties of a too active life. The innumerable host of 
created beings are continually sending upward their 
offerings of frankincense. We find it in the majestic 
roar of the king of beasts, in the sweet notes of the 
singing birds, in the tiny hum of the smallest insect, 
the roar of the mountain cataract, and the musical fall 
of the mountain cascade, the terrible peal of the thun- 
der, and the resistless rush of the tempest. The silent 
surface of the placid lake breathes out quietly this in- 
cense to Him above. Swift fishes, rejoicing in their 
activity beneath its waters, add to its volume. All 
vegetation, every majestic tree, the dark cypress and 
laurel, the luxuriant jungles of the tropics, the many- 
colored autumn woods of New England, the nodding 
daisies of the field, the brilliant gems of the morass, 
the delicate blossoms of the deep woods, all join in 
sending to Heaven the frankincense of praise. Paint- 
ing, science, literature, music, all the liberal arts in 
their abstract purity, are among the throng of offerers. 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 23 

And the human heart, and still more the soul, in their 
first, pure existence, lead the rest of creation in the 
service. And what a mighty cloud is formed by the 
unison and blending of all these elements into one 
great offering of incense to the Maker and Creator of 
all things ! " 



From the correspondence of Perkins while at 
school and college, with his most intimate friend 
Clarence King, some extracts have been kindly 
furnished by the mother of the latter. She says, 
" I have selected several passages which mark 
his devout spirit toward God and his constant 
looking toward that blessed life upon which 
he has now entered, and others, which show 
his deep love of nature and the vein of jocose- 
ness which brightened the natural seriousness 
of his mind and demeanor" — and alluding to 
the deep attachment between her son and his 
friend, "to whom his soul was knit as David unto 
Jonathan," " they were one in their keen in- 
tellectual zest for the highest mental enjoyment, 
and one in their fervent desire to become Christ- 
like in heart and life. I never saw a truer love 
of nature than in your son's heart and eye, for 
he saw and felt. I remember how he lifted his 
eyes to the fine old hills at Brattleboro when lie 
was leaving us, and said, " Shall I ever see so 
much beauty again ? " 



24 A MEMORIAL OF 

" Only the night before Clarence left me for 
his long western journey, during a long night's 
talk, he spoke of him as most dear and valued, 
and said, " If he lives he will make a great 
man." 

We copy these extracts. The first one is a 
boy's expression of friendship and hope and con- 
stancy ; so elevated and far reaching in its 
hopes and anticipations ! — " How very sweet it 
is to have this bond of Christian fellowship ; 
without it our friendships would be nothing, lia- 
ble to be broken at any moment ; now it forms 
a link which nothing can break here or here- 
after. I pray most earnestly that this Christian 
life and fire may be kept brightly burning, and 
be the motive power of all our future lives." 

" I have just been reading an account of the 
terrible accident at Lawrence, and it has filled 
me with thankfulness for the mercies of our 
Father, who has kept me from all harm through 
our many adventures, and surely some of them 
were full of peril. Life is very uncertain. I 
hope I may be ready to go at any moment." 

" He was ' ready.' " 

" To morrow is Easter Sunday. I shall think 
of you often, and you will, I know, remember 
■me. When we celebrate the resurrection of the 
Redeemer we can rejoice that he is ours, and 
that wherever we are nothing can deprive us of 



c^ 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 25 

his love nor of the sure hope of everlasting life 
through His blood. May God keep us true to 
Him and ' unspotted from the world,' and then 
after this brief fight of life we shall forever be 
at rest ! ' " 

" O5 my brother, what longings to be always 
with you were awakened by our brief meeting 
last week ! We will not always be parted ; we 
are going somewhere beyond the regions of this 
earth, for we are not altogether ' of the earth, 
earthy.' Pray for me always even if we should 
be so far separated as to be wholly out of the 
reach of communication. I mean, of course, in 
body^ for we can never be separated in spirit. 
That is a glorious thought. Though our bodies 
may be lying in their last resting places, our 
souls may always meet each other, and finally 
meet to part no more." 

" Sunday evening is so different now. No, 
C ~ and J to meet and walk with, watch- 
ing the fine sun-sets and cloud-pictures. How 
often have we walked up and down Washington 
street, and talked as boys seldom do. Truly we 
have had a strangely happy boyhood together. I 
hope the cares of life may never take from us- 
the feelings we now have, but that we may be 
an example of brotherly Christian love amongst 

" To-night I shall go out and walk, though it 



26 A MEMORIAL OF 

rains and howls. It will quiet me, for I love a 
storm, — it lifts me above common tliouglit." 

Was this feeling in unison with that of the 
poet Keble when he heard in the tempest and 
the whirlwind, voices proclaiming the power and 
the love of God ? 

" They know the Almighty's power, 

Who, waken'd by the rushing midnight shower, 

Watch for the fitful breeze 

To howl and chafe amid the bending trees, — 

Watch for the still, white gleam 

To bathe the landscape in a fiery stream, 

Touching the tremulous eye with sense of light 

Too rapid and too pure for all but angel's sight. 

" They know the Almighty's love, 
Who, when the whirlwinds rock the topmost grove, 
Stand in the shade, and hear 
The tumult, with a deep, exulting fear ; 
How in their fiercest sway, 
Curb'd by some power unseen, they die away. 
Like a bold steed that owns his rider's arm, 
Proud to be check'd and sooth'd by that o'ermaster- 
ing charm." 

" My dear old mathematics I give up with a 
real regret ; mathematics first brought you and 
me together, old fellow ; is not there poetry in 
that ? " 

'^ It does not seem right to go fishing without 
you and Z . It is not pleasant to see some 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 27 

one else fishing in a hole against which I knew 
you had a grudge. But we'll try it together 
yet, and many times I hope. Maine and New 
Briiiiswick loom up in my imagination, backed 
by recommendations of the immortal F. F. 
Just tliink of catching a salmon ! wouldn't it 
be glorious. "Nil desperandum," — we'll go 
there." 

" The road to Manchester was the same as 
ever, but without all those beautiful wild flow- 
ers which bloom along its sides. Our pretty lit- 
tle violets were just beginning to look green, 
but the hill where the lupines grew was brown 
and bare. The Hockanum was black and still 
as ever. It always reminds me of the ancient 
Styx, or of the last river we shall cross. It is 
so dark and solitary. That fine little hill where 
our camp stood has been cleared, but the old 
maple at the brookside is there in all its single- 
ness, and as I passed under its thick branches, 
I thought of all our pasts held in its shadow, 
feasts of trout and chocolate, and how we used 
to lie there and discuss our plans. It all seems 
like a dream now. But there was a very strange 
reality in yesterday's experience, for all day 
tliere raged a fierce March wind, colder than a 
patent freezer and keener than Attic salt ! Both 
of us were lightly clad, and it was very inter- 
esting, to say the least. At various points in 



28 A MEMORIAL OF 

the proceedings B , who did not see the fun 

of it at all, would whang down his rod and per- 
form the latest figures of the Feejee war dance, 
with appropriate cries and gestures." 

" College is all in a military furor just now. 
A company is being organized, and everybody 
expects to join. I suppose we are to go South 
and fight for State rights. I have become a reg- 
ular fire-eater, and practice swallowing a few 
coals before breakfast every morning, just to 
keep in trim." 

'' I am getting more and more anxious to go 
to the war. I am convinced that this trouble is 
no transient outbreak to be quelled in a few 
months, but that it is a great struggle to test 
the power of our government and purge us from 
our national sins. I am thoroughly convinced 
that it is my duty to be amongst the defenders 
of our national principles, and would go to the 
war immediately but for the pressure of other 
duties which hold me here for a time." 

" Trinity, Oct. 21st. 
Dear Brother, — 

It is almost dark, and I am sitting here in 
my room and longing to see you, 0, ever so 
much. I want to tell you so many things that 
I can't very well write, — and I want to write 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 29 

you a Sunday note just as I used to, — but of 
late I have felt very wicked. I have felt some- 
times almost like murmuring at God's dispensa- 
'tiojis ; I have not had that loving humble feeling 
toward my Saviour, that I should have — but 
when I really think, I still feel that firm trust 
and confidence in his merciful power, and look 
forward to a brighter future if not here, at least 
where we shall both be for eternity. 0, Clare, 
what would this world be with all its deceitful 
pleasures, with all its vanity and heartlessness, 
with all its trials and troubles and anxieties, if it 
were all we had to look to. No, there is another 
world beyond, yea and above this one, and every 
thing there is bright and pure and lovely and 
peaceful, and you and I will, if we ' so run,' at 
last meet on its shining shore. The very thought 
is enough to reconcile one to any amount of 
pain and anxiety now. Yet how often when 
busy with the aftairs of the world do we forget 
all about it, and fret and murmur at our lot. 
My earnest prayer is that I may have an obedi- 
ent, contented, humble heart; so bear my trials 
that I may be purified and made better by them, 
and thus learn to enjoy real pleasures more than 
those furnished by the world. 

But it is growing too dark to write. I will 
write you soon again. Try to write at least 
3* 



30 A MEMORIAL OF 

once a week. Remember me to all the fellows. 
Good bye, and may God bless you. 
Your Brother, 

D. P. Dewey." 

Of the "trials and troubles and anxieties" 
which at this time weighed down the soul of this 
noble minded boy it is not necessary to speak 
particularly. It is enough to say that they were 
of a nature so painful and so trying that the de- 
termination and strength of manhood, unsus- 
tained by Christian faith and courage, would 
have trembled under their weight ; but with what 
faith and patience and childlike submission he 
seeks to draw from them the lesson they were 
sent to teach, and to be borne upward in his 
Christian course by his saddest experiences ! 

After attaining a high standing in the insti- 
tution over which Mr. Curtis so successfully 
presided. Perkins Dewey: entered Trinity Col- 
lege, Hartford, and there the same close habits 
of study, the same honorable, manly, straight- 
forward endeavor, the same settled, earnest, 
religious spirit marked this young disciple of 
Christ, which had been as " ornaments of grace 
about his head and as chains about his neck," 
while he gained one point beyond another in 
his onward progress ; and although he was cut 
down before he had received the honors which 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 31 

undoubtedly would have beeii awarded him at 
the close of his college course, yet the record 
of his faithfulness is not wanting from the high- 
'est officer of that institution, although it was 
given as he stood sorrowfully by his cold re- 
mains as they lay in the house of God. 

Professor Brockelsby, also, so widely known 
and respected as a professor in Trinity College, 
adds his affectionate and honorable testimony 
to the worth of this young man. He writes : — 

" Young Dewey entered Trinity College in 
the fall of I860, and from that time till his de- 
parture for the war, I met him almost daily in 
my classes. From his entrance he stood among 
the first scholars of his class, and was remark- 
able for his solid sense and clear intellect. 
What were difficulties to others were mastered 
by him with ease, and it was a pleasure, in the^ 
recitation, to hear his luminous exposition of 
the subject before him. 

But with all his ability there was no ambi- 
tious display, and he won the love and esteem 
of his teachers and companions by his modest 
and unassuming manners. He was firm in 
principle, and seeking Divine guidance, earn 
estly endeavored to do his duty, whatever dis- 
couragements and perplexities beset his path. 
A bright and useful future seemed to be before 



32 A MEMORIAL OF 

him. It was indeed brilliaiitj and heroic : but 
how brief ! 

Yet life is made up not of years but of deeds ; 
and who can say but that my noble yo Ling- 
friend has not better fulfilled the purposes of 
his existence than many of us who watched over 
his youth, and wept above his tomb ! 

In his death the college mourns the loss of 
one of her brightest jewels." 

At the time that young Dewey joined the 
army he had reached the beginning of his junior 
year in college. The year before, a company 
had been formed by the students for drill and 
other military exercises ; of this company he 
was a member. From the first outbreak of the 
war his thoughts and wishes were growing more 
and more earnest to join the army. During 
his summer vacation, in 1862, he went with 
some of his young friends on an excursion 
to Canada, at the time that some of our citi- 
zens had fled thither to escape the draft. His 
little party was apprehended and detained on 
the way upon suspicion of going there for the 
same purpose. This circumstance only in- 
creased his desire to go to the war, and enroll 
himself at once amongst the champions of order, 
freedom and good government. But upon re- 
flection he deferred it till he should return 



':^ 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 33 

to Hartford ; then with a simple and earnest 
appeal he asked the consent of his mother to 
join the twenty-fifth regiment, which was at that 
time encamped at Hartford. " Mother, it is 
my duty ; don't refuse me ! " His whole heart 
and soul seemed to be absorbed in this one 
wish ; his determination was inflexible, only 
awaiting some sign of acquiescence from his 
mother, while she stood, unwilling to damp 
the ardor of a soul burning with patriotism and 
filled with high resolve of duty and self-sacri- 
fice and unable to say the word which gave her 
noble son as an offering to his country — that 
son, upon whom even in his youth her spirit 
rested with so much confidence for comfort, for 
assistance, and for counsel, and who gave her 
such well-grounded promise for all her future 
years — he turned from her, gathering her con- 
sent from her unwonted silence, and without 
delay joined the twenty-fifth regiment Connec- 
ticut volunteers, where he remained until his 
death. 

His letters from the time of his enlistment 
till the fatal battle of Irish Bend, will be read 
with interest by those for whom this memorial 
is intended — the friends who knew and appre- 
ciated his worth — the soldiers who were his 
companions in arms and, during the short time 
of their intercourse with him, had learned to 



34 A MEMORIAL OF 

love and honor him — for all who would follow 
one out of the thousands and tens of thousands 
who have left a home of comfort and enjoy- 
ment, friends the most beloved, and all the op- 
portunities of improvement in quiet study, in 
refined society, in the priceless advantages of 
religious instruction, with all other privileges of 
the church of Christ, and gone forth heroically 
and cheerfully with their lives in their hands, 
to stand in the face of danger and of death, and 
to contend against a deadly enemy in the cause 
of that God whose throne is the habitation of 
justice and judgment, and before whose face 
mercy and truth have their eternal dwelling- 
place. 

We give the letters in the order in which 
they were written, from the time of his first 
encampment with his regiment in Hartford, 
until almost his last weary night of service. 
The first was written from the camp at Hart- 
ford, to his only sister who was at school in 
New Haven. 

Camp Halleok, Sept. 30tli, 1863. 

My dear Fannie : — I received your letter some 
time ago, but I have put off answering it until now, 
as I have had neither opportunity nor the means of 
writing. To-day I am corporal of the guard over the 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 35 

drafted men or rather over the camp where the drafted 
men ought to be, but are not. They have a camp 
just south of the 22d, but for the last week there has 
'not , been a man in it. Nevertheless a guard is sent 
over every morning, from the 25th, to take care of 
them, but as the tents are all empty the guard is not 
very strict, so that we have an easy time. The senti- 
nels sit down or stand up, smoke, sing and eat, in fact, 
do about as they are a mind to. This is not so how- 
ever in the other camp, there they are very strict. 
The guard is detailed every morning at breakfast time, 
and goes on duty at nine and remains on duty till nine 
next morning. The whole guard is divided into three 
parts, called " reliefs," one of which goes on duty 
every three hours, relieving the one before it, so that 
sentinels are on their beat two hours and off four, but 
they must be at the guard house that four hours, so 
that on the whole it is no easy matter to "mount 
guard." I have been on twice before as private, and 
once as a corporal, so that I know a little about it. I 
was appointed acting corporal Sunday morning, but 
can't tell whether I shall be made a real corporal or 
not. Guess I shall though, and perhaps higher, as 
things look now. 

Our rogiment is nearly full and will be sworn in and 
equipped in a few days, and soon after sent off. The 
22d is all ready and will go off it is said, day after 
to-morrow, (Thursday,) and then we shall go into 
their tents. It is very pleasant and much more com- 
fortable in barracks, but we don't have so many visit- 
ors, so that it is rather dull. We drill four hours every 



36 A MEMORIAL OF 

day, two in the morning and two in the afternoon. 
Sometimes the heat is excessive and sometimes the 
ground is wet and slippery and then it is fun to see 
the men slide. Roll call at 5.50 in the morning, 
breakfast at six. The officers drill from 6 J to 7 J, 
guard mounting at 8, drill from 9 J till ll^, dinner at 
12, drill again at 2, dress parade at 5.30 ; then noth- 
ing more except supper till 9, when all the companies 
fall in for roll call, and at 9^ all lights must be put 
out and the barracks quiet. And this is the way we 
live every day. Our food is plain but plenty. We 
have coffee or tea at every meal, but no milk, gener- 
ally. We have beans or soup for breakfast, fresh or 
salt meat, or soup and vegetables for dinner ; at supper, 
hominy or rice and occasionally stewed apples, and 
bread at all meals without butter. To-day we had 
beef-steak and sweet potatoes, but that is unusual. 
Mother keeps me well supplied with fruit and some- 
times sends me little nice things from home. Yester- 
day she made me a present of a fine silver watch to 
take to the war. So you see that thus far my soldier- 
life has not been very hard. My health, and in fact, 
that of the whole regiment has been very good, and 
we are all in a hurry to go off. If I can get a fur- 
lough I shall visit New Haven, and come and see you. 
It is about time to take my men over to supper, so 
that I can not write much more. Be a " good girl," 
and if I do not come back from the war, as perhaps I 
may not, be good to mother. Nothing will please her 
more than to have you improve in your studies and 
character. Try to become good as well as accom- 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 37 

plished, and do not be misled by any bad influences 
about you. Write to me soon and tell me how you 
are getting along, and all about school. Good bye, 
remember me to Julia, and all the girls. 
Your loving brother, 

D. P. Dewey. 

The regiment left their camp at Hartford, in 
the early part of November, and Perkins writ- 
ing from the next encampment, " Camp Buck- 
ingham," East New York, under date of No- 
vember 15th, says : — 

" Dear Mother : 

We had a pleasant trip to New York, and the^cap- 
tain of the boat said he never had a more orderly 
regiment aboard. We had to sleep on the floor, but 
were so tired that we slept soundly. We disem- 
barked at Williamsport, where breakfast was served 
out to us through the exertions of Colonel Almy, the 
Connecticut agent in New York. Then we marched 
out here, and a pretty tough pull it was, but the day 
was pleasant and the air cool, and we rested several 
times, so that we stood it pretty well. We have 
been very busy since, and I broke off from work to 
write now, — but there is a gentleman on the ground 
who offers to carry letters to New York, and I am 
improving the opportunity. 

Do write to me at once, for I am beginning to be 
homesick already." 



38 A MEMORIAL OF 

Transport Mary Boardman, 
Dec. 3d, 1862. 

Dear Mother: 

I received your last letter yesterday. It went out 
to Centreville, and then through the exertions of the 
chaplain, was brought aboard. I was sorry not to see 
you before you left, but everything was in such a snarl 
that I really did not know what was going to happen, 
nor how to act from one minute to another. The 
order came for us to move Thursday night, as I told 
you in my note, but Friday passed, and either it 
was countermanded or something happened to pre- 
vent its execution. I rather expected some one out 
to the camp, but no one came. Friday night we 
did not expect to move until the next week. How- 
ever, ail was uncertainty, and as I saw A. C on 

the ground early Saturday morning I asked him to 
go to Henry's place and beg you to come out imme- 
diately, and if he had done so, as he did not, I should 
have seen you. We did not leave till three o'clock 
P. M. I watched for you but you did not come, and 
I had to console myself the best way I could. I 
looked for you all the way in, but did not much ex- 
pect to see you, as we did not reacli Brooklyn till after 
dark and it was raining great guns, as it did most of 
the way in. We marched ten miles in three hours 
and a half, after drilling all the morning. We went 
down Atlantic street to the South Ferry and embarked 
on board this boat, the Mary A. Boardman, a small, 
black screw propeller. There are about 350 men, 
one company (K) being on board the She-Kiang, a 



C7 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 6\) 

large, white side-wheel steamer, and the rest of the 
regiment (five comj^anies) are on the Empire City, 
another steamer ; so you see we are pretty well di- 
vided up. Our vessel, I think, is the best sea-goer. 
She was built for the China trade and has been to 
Pensacola and Newbern before. I think she is safer 
than any of the others, although smaller. I would de- 
scribe to you, if I could, our accommodations, but I 
can not do them justice. The cabin where we sleep 
is too low for a six-footer to stand upright in except be- 
tween the beams of the deck above. In this space 
there are three tiers of bunks made of rough boards, 
and each man in consequence has less than two feet 
in height and in width has eighteen inches ; in length, 
four feet six inches — (I am four feet eight inches tall) 
and in this small space each man is expected to stow 
himself and all his traps. Between the two sides 
where the bunks are, a double row of rifle boxes is 
laid and on these company B sleeps — rather poor 
beds, but they have more room over head. My bunk 
is near the end, and near a port hole usually open and 
once in a while a breath of pure air comes in, but the 
atmosphere of the place at night, with over three hun- 
dred men sleeping or trying to sleep in it, is perfectly 
awful. The odors and sounds that arise make it al- 
most intolerable. I could easily stand the inconven- 
ience of being crowded if to it was not added such a 
risk of health. I tremble to think of the time when 
we are all sea-sick. Habit has made it endurable, 
even comfortable sometimes, now, but I fear the worst 
is to come. The first night aboard, being tired by the 



40 A MEBIORIAL OF 

march, I slept well. That night, (Saturday,) we lay out 
in the channel, expecting to sail next morning. In the 
morning the captain came to me knowing my skill 
with an oar, and asked me if I would like to be de- 
tailed on a boat's crew to pull between the vessel and 
the shore, and you will readily believe I didn't say no. 
So all day Sunday we lay in the same place, and I 
pulled back and forth in a life-boat, busy all day long, 
and it was an inexpressible relief from the constraint 
and monotony of the vessel. Many gave me com- 
missions to do on shore, and I had some business 
of my own, and I almost ran my legs off. That 
night I tried to sleep in my bunk again, but I was 
obliged to clear out and go on deck till I got chilled 
through, and then came down for another hour or 
so, and thus I spent the night. Monday came, but 
no signs of sailing, and it was spent by me in the same 
way as Sunday, and that night I bunked out on deck 
and slept finely. Yesterday morning, (Tuesday,) I 
rowed again, and in its course I visited a barber, took 
a thorough bath, had my hair cut and all my whiskers 
taken off; my face is now as smooth as yours. At 
noon we sailed and thought ourselves fairly started, 
but alas ! we had to haul to opposite Staten Island, 
owing to something wrong in the order and lay here 
all night, to the immense disgust of all. I slept on 
deck again and shall do so hereafter. This morning 
we are expecting to sail every minute ; the sooner the 
better. We have been on shipboard four nights al- 
ready and shall be two or three more, but no one is 
anxious to prolong the time. 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 41 

I shall send this letter back by the pilot ; as soon as 
I get anywhere I will write again and give my ad- 
dress ; until then you need not send any letters, though 
I wish you would write every day, if possible, and send 
me all in a bunch when you do send. 

Love to all, the boys, Aunt Susan, Mary "Jane," 
etc., and be assured of mine to you. 
Good bye, 

D. P. Dewey. 

Sunday, Dec. 7th, 1862. 
Transport Mary A Boardman. 

Dear Mother: 

"We have been a week on shipboard and shall be 
another, if not more. Soon after I finished my last 
letter orders came aboard with directions for the Col. 
to open them after twenty-four hours' sailing to the 
south. At two o'clock the next day they were opened, 
found to be orders to sail with all speed to Ship Island 
in the Gulf of Mexico, near the mouth of the Mis- 
sissijipi, where the 12th went. This was a surprise 
to all and was hardly credited at first, but it must be 
so, for we have been steaming away to the south ever 
since, and are now somewhere on the lower coast of 
Georgia. We would have been farther but for a ter- 
rific old gale that struck us near Hatteras and con- 
tinued with great violence for about twelve hours, 
being at its height about twelve o'clock Friday night, 
when nearly every wave washed over us from stem to 
stern. In the morning the smoke-stack was white 

with a crust of salt from the spray. Our little steamer 

4* 



42 A MEMORIAL OF 

Stood it splendidly. She mounted the huge rollers 
like a cork, and when we were going down the sides 
of one the deck looked like the roof of a house only 
much steeper. I tell you there were some scared 
aboard. However, there Avas no real danger at any 
time, and as it was impossible to sleep on deck with 
any degree of comfort, I went below and slept like a 
top till morning. Strange to say among all the sea- 
sickness I have not suffered from it at all yet, I do 
not think I shall ; but it is the first time though I hope 
not the last. I should not dare to be sick now, I have 
laughed so much at the others. It is dreadful lone- 
some here on the ocean, we've seen no land since'the 
first night. It is all sea and sky with occasionally a 
school of porpoise or a gull, or away off in the distance 
a sail. Vessels however, do not come very near us. 
Low bkck steamers are too suspicious in these days 
of privateers and blockades to invite close acquaint- 
ance. But we shall have to stop soon to coal, proba- 
bly at the Tortugas, an island at the southern ex- 
tremity of Florida ; and if we do I shall try to send 
a letter home. If I do you must not say anything 
about our destination, if the information reaches you 
before it is made public. I have written [^until my 
fingers ache. 

7 A. M, Wednesday, Dec, 1862. We are now ly- 
ing in front of Fort Jefferson on the dry Tortugas 
which we reached last night about 3 o'clock. All has 
been well and pleasant especially the weath'^r since 
Sunday, which is as mild and pleasant as June. I 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY, j 43 

can hardly realize that it is the 20th of December, 
but so it is. 

This island where we are lying is a small one and 
as we look at it from the steamer is nothing but sand, 
with a big fort around it. We may have a chance to 
see the inside of it, if we land, and then I can tell bet- 
ter about it. Af present I see no prospect of any 
fruit or anything else different from our sea fare. I 
am going to mail this from .here, although, you may 
never get it, but there is a chance of it and I shall 
try. I know the chaplain will do his best and that is 
a good deal. Love to all, and lots to yourself. 
Your affectionate son, 

D. 

Ship Island, Dec. 15th, 1862. 
Dear Mother: 

We arrived here this morning, after a very pleasant 
trip of thirty-six hours from Tortugas. We are now 
lying just off shore, and can not say wdiether we shall 
land or not. I hope so by all means, as we have been 
on this old steamer long enough to be tired of it. We 
landed at Tortugas, from which place I mailed a letter 
which you must have received by this time. We 
spent about twelve hours, bathing, lounging and look- 
ing about. It was one of the greatest reliefs I ever 
had to get on shore again and lie down on the ground. 
Inside the fort it was much pleasanter than outside. 
The trees and grass are in full leaf and the air is as 
warm as summer, although the soldiers of the garri- 
son said it was the coldest day they had had for 
some months and were amazed at our idea of going 



44 A MEMORIAL OP 

into the water ; but we went notwithstanding. The 
vegetation was entirely different from anything I have 
ever seen. The ground was mostly composed of bare 
sand, particles of coral and shells ; but here and there 
were patches of long and wonderfully soft grass* 
There were many tall cocoanut palms with their long, 
fan-like leaves, and one date palm, besides acacia trees 
and mangroves ; everything was entirely tropical. 
The fort itself is of brick and one of the largest I ever 
saw ; it is nearly a mile in circumference and the 
walls in the thinnest part are nine feet thick ; it has 
six sides with a bastion at every corner on which is 
mounted a ten inch columbiad — one of them is a 
twelve incher, from which they fired a salute when we 
left. The weight of it was 15,145 lbs., and it carries 
a shot weighing 128 pounds ; a pretty good sized pop- 
gun. Outside the fort is defended naturally by long 
and wide sand-shoals, over which no vessel can ap- 
proach and the only channel is so protected that it 
would be sure death for anything to attempt it. On 
these shoals are thousands of shells of all kinds and 
sizes and colors, and great quantities of beautiful coral 
and sea weed. I picked up some of the smaller shells 
to send home, but I don't know how I can do it at 
present. 

After loading our coal we had a dress parade in the 
fort and then embarked again and set sail. This last 
short trip has been the most pleasant of all the voy- 
age. We have been sailing in the warm and smooth 
waters of the gulf of Mexico, watching flying fish and 
porpoises and nautilus and sun fish, and all the won- 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 45 

ders of the sea. At night in these latitudes the stars 
are very brilliant, and in the water are thousands of 
phosphorescent sparks whenever there is any com- 
liiotXon, so that the vessel leaves a light trail far be- 
hind it, and then we have some splendid ''sings" every 
night to while away the time. 

But I could not say all I wanted to about the sights 
of this new country if I was to write till to-morrow — 
so I must leave the rest till I can tell you about it. 
Of course in viva voce I am well, but we all have to 
be careful as the climate is treacherous, producing a 
fever which is almost always fatal ; but it is now the 
most healthful season and there is little real danger. 

I must adjourn now for dinner. 

Your affectionate son, D. 
* * * * 
Dear Mother : 

Of Ship Island we saw but little, but I saw enough 
to make me glad we were not going to stay there. It 
is a long, low sand-bar ; the sand is the finest I ever 
saw, with no sign of vegetation except some vines 
that run along the ground, some leaves of which I 
enclose. Perhaps with all your botanical knowledge 
you can tell what it is. At day-break this morning 
we were off the mouth of the Mississippi and all day 
we have been steaming up its muddy waters, following 
close in the wake of the North Star, which leads the 
way with Head-quarters aboard. We are the second 
ship of the fleet, thus far, although there is a big steamer 
just behind doing her best to get ahead of us, and I 
guess she will do it as the M. B. is rather a slow con- 
cern. We passed forts Jackson on one side and St. 



46 A MEMORIAL OF 

Phillip on the other, and they fired a salute in honor 
of us. 

I am terribly disappointed in the " Father of Wa- 
ters." There is very little about it so far that it is ma- 
jestic or beautiful. It is narrow and muddy, the banks 
but for the novelty of their vegetation and dwellings, 
would be very uninteresting. We are passing con- 
tinually plantations of rice, sugar and cotton, and 
nearly every house has an orange grove with trees in 
full bloom and fruit. We look with longing eyes upon 
them but can not get any. An old negress in the 
generosity of her heart came out with her arms full 
and tried to throw them aboard, but alas ! they went 
only a few feet from the shore. However, we will 
soon get plenty of them, I suppose. I have written 
enough for such a hot day and I will wait till it is 
cooler and scribble some more, but for fear I don't, I 
will give you my address again. It is name, com- 
pany, regiment, Gen. Banks' Expedition via Wash- 
ington, Please write immediately, and often, and 
send all the Vanity Fairs or other papers you can get. 
Yours, lovingly, 

D. P. Dewey. 

Baton Rouge, La., 

Christmas, 1862. 
Dear Mother : 

Here I am away down in Louisiana, my first Christ- 
mas from home, and to-day I have thought of old 
Hartford and those in it, many tinies. But there is 
little use in wishing to be there, as it is unavailing, and 
I must make the best of it. Acting upon this same 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 47 

idea I made a purchase of some corn-bread this morn- 
ing, from a slave and a box of sardines, which with 
fried bacon and potatoes that Uncle Sam furnished us 
made up my Christmas dinner. I tried to get a 
chicken but did not succeed, and in fact it is hard to 
get anything at all at any price. 

I went to church this morning with the adjutant and 
a squad, at the Roman Catholic Church, the only one 
open. The congregation was composed chiefly of 
soldiers, as the town is almost entirely deserted, but 
there were more and a better class of people than I 
should have imagined, and the singing was very good. 
Not equal to Christ Church to be sure, but neverthe- 
less excellent. The Romanists here are chiefly French 
Creoles, a very respectable set of people, who are 
mostly neutral in the war, which accounts for their 
being in town. It is saddening to go through this 
town, formerly a flourishing place, but now half burnt, 
with great black ruins standing everywhere, and often 
a house with a huge hole in its walls or roof where 
some shell or ball has made its way. The grass act- 
ually growing in the middle of the street, and the 
stores are all closed with few exceptions. The people 
creep about as if half scared to death. I am thank- 
ful that most of my friends are in a land of peace, and 
do not live in daily fear of their lives and property. 
People at the North can not begin to understand the 
reality of this war, but at the South it is brought 
home to them with terrible reality. Provisions of all 
kinds are scarce and high. Flour can not be had at 
any price. Crowds of people come into the camp. 



48 A MEMORIAL OF 

anxious to buy anything, often giving gold and silver 
rather than go away empty. Salt, so cheap at the 
North, brings fabulous prices. Lard and butter a 
dollar a pound ; sugar, the cheapest, is fifteen cents a 
pound, &c. There is no milk or eggs, or salt meat, 
tea or coffee, in fact nothing but sweet potatoes and 
corn-meal, and they are high for this region. The 
only thing that is low is the " Contrabands," these are 
plenty at a low figure — our camp is full of them. 
They swarm in, whole plantations of them at a time. 
They are turned over to the Provost Marshall, who 
sets them at work. All teams, or horses (most miserable 
beasts the whole of them) are confiscated in the same 
way and set to work, so that much hard work is taken 
from the soldiers. 

Perhaps you would like to learn my movements 
since my last letter which was written on the way up 
the river. I have hardly room to give you the out- 
lines at present. Perhaps sometime I shall get home 
to tell you more. We reached N. O. on Sunday eve., 
Dec. 17th, and lay there without disembarking through 
Monday, during which time we ate oranges enough 
to make up for our long abstinence on the voyage. 
Early Tuesday noon we set sail for " up the river," 
where, we did not precisely know, although it was 
supposed to be this place, as it turned out. There 
were five transports and four gun-boats on this expe- 
dition. All went well until noon, when we were 
startled by having our arms delivered to us, (they had 
been kept in the boxes until now,) together with four 
pounds of ammunition, and it was rumored that we 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 49 

were to go into action within twenty-four hours, much 
to the dissatisfaction of many who knew nothing about 
the use of the musket. We went immediately to 
drilling, but nothing happened until night, when we 
were ordered to sleep on our arms for an alarm. I 
turned in on deck as usual, but about half-past nine 
was routed out, the sailors clearing away the boat un- 
der which I slept, ready to land the troops, and it was 
said we were to land and capture some rebel batteries 
up the river a few miles. After that we went on 
slowly " feeling" our way, with two gunboats in ad- 
vance, one about the middle of the line and one in 
the rear, expecting to be fired upon every minute. 
After keeping awake about an hour I became sleepy 
and went below and slept till morning as calmly as if 
at home. We reached Baton Rouge where we found 
the U. S. frigate Mississippi and the iron-clad gunboat 
Essex, a queer looking craft, which, if I have time, I 
will sketch for you. The town was in possession of 
the rebels. We dropped anchor in the stream and 
the Essex drew along shore and commenced shelling 
the place. After about twenty shots the enemy ske- 
daddled to Port Hudson, about twenty miles above, 
where it is said there are fifteen thousand rebels, where 
probably, the right general guide will see his first 
battle. We soon after landed and encamped. Our 
camp life I will describe to you soon. 

I have written to no one thus far, but to you, and it 
will not do ; yet I wish you to hear as often as possi- 
ble, and write to the girls, and Henry, and Aunt Susan, 
and others at the same time, which I can not do ; so I 
5 



50 A MEMORIAL OP 

would like you to send my letters and direct them to 
send mine to you. I will then write to each in turn. 
So for the present one letter must do for all — and will 
you write to me and tell the others to write as often 
as possible and a little oftener, even if I do not write 
to them, for it is harder work than they imagine. I 
send you some rose-buds from the Court House yard, 
picked to-day, Dec. 25th, mid-winter. Will you send 
one to the girls ? My love to all, and be assured of 
my earnest regard and constant remembrance your- 
self. The colonel sends his regards. 

Your loving son, 

D. P. Devtey. 

Baton Rouge, Jan. 14th. 
Dear Mother : 

I can not send a letter home without a few lines to 
you, especially as your letter which arrived yesterday 
reveals the fact that you are anxious about me. So I 
must seize this chance to assure you that I am in 
splendid condition physically and have been so, ever 
since I left the North. Camp life does not wear upon 
me scarcely at all and in fact, not half so much as my 
summer expedition did. Everything is regular, which 
is a great deal for me. There is a set time for drill- 
ing, resting, eating and sleeping. Food is plain and 
plentiful. I have gained some ten pounds of weight. 
I am not exposed to work or to weather as I have 
been^ and the colds, rheumatisms, fevers and other ail- 
ments which have siezed others, have left me un- 
harmed. Excepting the separation from home I could 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 51 

not well be more contented and jolly ; not that we 
have an easy time by any means, far from it, by what 
you will see I have written Fannie, but hard work is 
iiot so hard when you know just what you have to do 
and how to do it and have regular, invariable rests. 
Occasionally, that is when our turn comes, the com- 
pany go out on picket duty, when we take our sleep- 
ing arrangements and rations and march out to the 
picket post, generally one or two miles from the main 
camp — we go in the morning and remain twenty-four 
hours. The main company is posted as a reserve, 
usually at some deserted house or sheltered spot. 
Advance post, or the real pickets are then posted some 
distance in advance, two or three together, the posts 
being in caUing distance of each other. One of these 
pickets must be always awake and watching. Half of 
the reserve have also to be on their feet ; in case of 
an attack these pickets fall back to the reserve and 
the reserve to the camp, keeping the enemy in check 
till the line of battle can be formed. So you see what 
it means when you read that the pickets were driven 
in. When we are on picket duty we usually spend 
our spare time in foraging, by which means we get 
our sweet potatoes, sugar and molasses, &c. At our 
last post the chief spoil that we foraged was molasses 
from an old deserted sugar factory, and pea-nuts, 
which we dug in a field and roasted. So you see there 
are some advantages in outpost duty. There is a 
prospect of more very soon. We are under orders to 
be ready for a march at any moment, and Gen. Banks' 
expedition is expected up to review us in a few days. 



52 A MEMORIAL OF 

When we do fight, I most heartily hope we shall do 
better than the reports that we get inform us they are 
doing north of us. 

But I have written more than I expected already. 
I shall send this as far as N. Y. by Serg't Hubbell, 
who has received a commission in the 21st Conn., and 
is going home. So you will be sure to get it. 
Good bye, 

With much love, 

D. 

Baton Rouge, Jan. 14th. 
Dear Fannie : 

I received the first letter from home yesterday, be- 
ing the second one Mother has sent me. The first has 
not reached me yet, but I hope it will. I learned 
from the second letter that you had left school, so that 
I can not now write to you and Julie together ; so you 
must send this to her wherever she is. The first part 
of it was written about a mile from here, from which 
place we moved the next Sunday, being ordered into 
the town, as it was feared that the rebels were going 
to attack us in great numbers. Some how or other 
they manage to take our days of rest from us. We 
moved out there New Year's day, back on Sunday, 
and every Sunday there is almost as much work to do 
as on any other day. Pretty busy times, I tell you. 
I will tell you how we spend the day. The bugle 
sounds at 5^ A. M., when we fall in under arms, and 
form the regimental lines on the double quick, and 
take our places behind an earthwork (which I helped 



a- 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 53 

by the way, to make.) Here we have to stand till 
daylight to be ready for an attack, which the rebels 
are very fond of making just about that time. After 
we_get back from the ground we have breakfast, at 
eight guard mounting, nine to ten, drill, eleven to 
twelve, drill, half-past twelve, dinner, after dinner 
we drill from two to four, dress parade at half-past 
four, supper next. Tattoo with roll call at eight, 
taps hghts out, at nine. So we live every day, and it 
keeps us pretty busy too and tired, so that writing or 
reading time is scarce. Write often and a great deal. 
Give my love to all ; Mother, the boys. Nap and 
Kitty, Maggie, and all the rest. 
Good bye, 

From your brother, 

r>. 

Dear Mother : 

I received your last letter and Fannie's day before 
yesterday, and although I was delighted to hear from 
home, I was sorry to hear that you had been sick. 
The last news, however, was encouraging and I hope 
soon to hear of your complete recovery. I shall look 
anxiously for the next mail. The papers came all 
right, and for them I am infinitely obliged. They 
remind us that there is such a place as H., and that 
friends there are remembering us. Your first letter, 
which you said you sent to Ship Island, I shall prob- 
ably never see, and aunt Susan speaks of your send- 
ing one with my card in it, that I have never re- 
ceived. I suppose I must be satisfied if I get about 
half that are sent, as that seems to be the case with 
5* 



54 A MEMORIAL OF 

most soldiers ; but it is rather hard ; I only hope mine 
all get safely home. There have been great changes 
in our officers lately. The lieut. col., major and sev- 
eral lieutenants have resigned, and their resignations 
were accepted. Captain Weld has received a nomin- 
ation from the col. as lieut. colonel ; our Orderly, 
Ward, is adjutant, Lieut. Norton is now captain, and 
Waterman, 1st lieut. The 2d lieutenancy is vacant 
and will probably be filled from another company, as 
the col. talks of consolidating some of the small ones 
and making only eight companies in the regiment. 

Sunday, Feb. \st. I went into town to-day for 
the first time since New Year's day and was surprised 
at the change. Many of the inhabitants have re- 
turned, and the streets are quite gay, compared to 
their appearance when we first arrived. The stores, 
many of them, were open. We can buy anything 
almost, from a spool of thread to a dictionary. The 
price of things is perfectly astonishing. Quinine, so 
necessary in this land of chills and fever is worth sev- 
enteen dollars an ounce, outside the lines — more than 
gold. So you see that there are some things more 
precious than specie, and speaking of specie, it is 
more plenty here, I imagine, than at the North. Some 
of these old planters come into town, buy their flour 
and salt and pay for them in silver half dollars. 
Change is often given by the shopkeepers in silver and 
once in a while, in gold. The suttlers get it all and 
send it home on speculation ; so it does us poor coves, 
no good. 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. ^5 

February 16th, 1863. 
Dear Mother: 

A mail came last night, bringing me a letter from 
yoUj post marked, Jan. 26th, the long looked for Ship 
Island letter, telling all about Christmas and affairs at 
home, I was delighted to get it, but at the same 
time it made me rather homesick, as I imagined you 
all in the little rooms, and wished I could have been 
there for that day. I do not repent my enlistment at 
all and would not go home now if I could get my dis- 
charge, but that does not prevent my thinking of you 
often, and with great desire to see you. 

Yesterday, I think, was one of the most disagreea- 
ble days I ever saw. The wind blew keen and cold 
from the north and the sky was covered with grey 
clouds. Here in this climate, such a day is felt more 
keenly than at the north, where you have more uniform 
weather. Now, to-day, the sky is clear and the sun 
is warm and pleasant as in June ; in fact it is a glori- 
ous day ; a day to drive away the blues from the 
bluest hypocondriac. The birds are hopping about 
and singing, and the soldiers are all out of doors thaw- 
ing out from yesterday's freeze. Such days it is fun 
to be a oldier. I lie here in the sun, my pencil in 
hand, enjoying life a great deal better than many well 
housed people that I know. After all there is a free- 
dom from responsibility about a soldier's life that makes 
it one of the most contented lives in the world. Every 
one knows just what he has to do, and how to do it. 
When it is done he has little else to think of; none of 
the cares and anxieties of life to trouble him and 
somebody to take care of him, besides. 



56 A MEMORIAL OF 

I was inteiTupted here by a drill call and have been 
unable to resume until now, (evening.) I am acting 
as orderly, all the other sergeants being on the sick list 
except myself and one other who has charge of the 
rations. I have been promoted to be second sergeant. 
Sergeant Goodwin is orderly. It may cause some ill 
feeling, but it was none of my doings. I do not feel 
that I ought to decline any advancement, as I started 
below my level, and am only working up to it. So 
let things work. I have a bet that I'll come home 
with shoulder straps and I fancy I shall win it. To- 
morrow I go on guard for the first time since leaving 
Hartford. I have resigned my position as right gene- 
ral guide. Another mail came this afternoon, which 
makes two in two days ; something of a wonder, &c. 

February 18th. 
You see from the patched up style of this epistle, 
how busy I am. I have to improve every five min- 
utes, and precious few of them do I get. But to-day 
I am on guard and have plenty of spare time, so that 
I think I can finish without interruption. Each mail 
brings a greater or a smaller number of illustrated 
newspapers which are generally circulated, and some 
of the pictures are remarkably correct, especially those 
in Frank Leslie's. He has a very good representa- 
tion of our landing here. There was another in 
Harper evidently made out of the whole cloth and 
having no resemblance to the truth. I think that 
Frank Leslie really has an artist with the expedition, 
and will probably give true pictures of events which 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 57 

transpire here. To-day is pay-clay with the 13th 
Conn., and it is amusing to see the soldiers in posses- 
sion of their money. They are as pleased as children 
with a picture book. The sutlers are crowded and 
oranges, gingerbread and cider are rapidly disappear- 
ing. In a day or two it will be our turn, and then I 
expect to see still greater rejoicing, as it will be the 
first time with us. When I get my pay I think I shall 
go in town and have one Christian-like meal at a table 
with a knife and fork, as they say there are restau- 
rants open where you can get such things. I shall go 
and see any way. You ask me various questions in 
regard to the contrabands, some of wliich it would be 
hard to answer, but I will tell you what 1 think of 
them as near as I can. In the first place, I never saw 
so many before in my life — real, genuine, black, field 
negroes. The streets, houses, camps, levees, every 
place swarms with them. They come in in crowds 
every day, and are taken in charge by the authorities, 
and are set at work. At first they work well, under 
the novelty of their new position ; but after a while 
their true character appears. They become careless 
and lazy, caring more for their bacon and dances and 
sleep, than for labor or any attempt at self-improve- 
ment. Then the old influence of fear has to be brought 
to bear upon them and rough language, and threats 
are more potent than reason or persuasion. But this 
is not " work for wages," as the only pay they get is 
their food and lodging. The only paid labor is done 
by the women in the shape of washing, and I am sorry 
to say I know of several instances where clothes sent 



58 A MEMORIAL OP 

to the wash were never returned. As soldiers they 
do very well, as they manage their arms well and are 
obedient ; but I imagine that even in this walk of life 
their obedience is due to fear and habit, rather than 

to any prompt sense of duty or self-respect, &c. 

* * * * * * * 

You ask me if I feel like re-enlisting when T get 
back. I really can not tell anything about it. We 
have not I suppose, seen the worst phase of soldier- 
ing, namely, the fighting part. After a few battles I 
may have enough of it, although at present I am in- 
clined to see the war out ; yet I must confess that I 
have not quite as much faith in the ultimate success 
as I did have ; every thing seems slow and undeter- 
mined, no activity, no life. But I don't know prob- 
ably as much as those in command and they are doing 
what seems best to them. Well, I should think I had 
written enough for one letter, although as you say, I 
could write and write and never stop. But I must 
close sometime as my odds and ends of paper have 
been used up ; I think I will not commence another 
sheet. I am in excellent health, have grown so stout 
that I can not button my vest. 

With much love to you and all. 

Your Son, 

D. 

Baton Rouge, 
Tuesday, Feb. 17th, 1863. 
Dear Sister : 

Your note with the package came all right and 
reached me a few days ago, and I suppose it is need- 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 59 

less to tell you that I enjoyed them hugely. Sardines 
are always acceptable, and tobacco is now one of the 
greatest comforts I have. I fill my pipe and lie down 
on my back and think of home and picture all dear 
faces in the smoke — and then too, on a cold night on 
picket duty away in the lonely woods without any 
fire, a pipe is a great companion. But I suppose you 
will turn up your precious little nose at the idea, and 
so I will say no more about it. 

I shall put you to shame when I come home, when 
you see how well I can wash and cook and sew. We 
are obliged to wash all our under clothing once a week 
and I have attained such a proficiency that I shall 
compete with the professional washerwoman soon — and 
as to sewing why, I sewed a new chevron on one of 
my sleeves the other day a great deal better than the 
old ones were. But I give up one thing to its proper 
owners and that is darning stockings. I darned mine 
yesterday and before I got through I " darned" them 
" out loud" and they were the " darnedest" looking 
stockings you ever did see, when I finished them. 

February 20th. 
Your letter mailed Feb. 3d, and two of Mother's 
mailed Jan. 25th and 28th, came this morning with 
one from Mr. Ashe, all which I was delighted to re- 
ceive. I fear some mails have been lost as I can not 
account for some letters which I know have been sent- 
However, I suppose I ought to be contented to hear 
from you at all away down here in this barbarous 
country. Tell Maggie that I often have " chills," es- 



60 A MEMORIAL OF 

pecially at sight of nervous young ladies. I have 
had four " attacks" of spiders, seven of " caterpillars," 
and fifteen of " mice ;" and besides I have contracted 
a new disease peculiar to the country, called the "liz- 
ards." There are lots of them here. Little green 
and brown and spotted fellows. They look like small 
alligators ; I have a little mottled fellow that sleeps 
in my vest pocket every night and eats out of my 
plate ; I am going to bring him home when I come, 
for I have grown so fond of him that I can not bear 
the idea of separation ! 

****** 

You say that Annie did not send her love to me, 
nor anything; now I shall immediately proceed to 
heap coals of fire on her head by sending her my very 
best regards. Be sure to give them to her. They 
cost a good deal down here. 

In great haste, but with much love, to all, 
Your brother, 

D. P. Dewey. 

After acknowledging the receipt of a pack- 
age from his mother, and saying to her, " I al- 
most cried when I opened it and saw how well 
you were caring for me, away off here," he 
begs to hear " anything" from his college com- 
panions, he writes- under date of Feb. 23d, at 
Camp Grover, Baton Rouge, to his mother, to 
whom his thoughts and affections so constantly 
turn. 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 61 

" It is a long time since I have written, but I have 
been so busy that I have hardly had time to take my 
meals, and you know I must be very much occupied 
when I don't do that. Sergeant Goodwin, our or- 
derly, has been unwell for sometime and his duties 
fell upon me as second sergeant. That was enough 
for one man, but in addition Lieutenant Waterman, 
the only commissioned officer in the company, was 
taken sick two days ago, since which time I have had 
command of the company. You should see with what 
dignity and style I conduct myself. I have all the 
drilling to do at dress-parade. 1 don the orderly's 
sash and sword and with brightly polished boots and 
spotless white gloves I march Company A, the best 
company in the regiment, out into lines, issue orders, 
present arms with my sword and conduct myself gen- 
erally with all the dignity of a pair of shoulder straps. 
However, it gives me so much to do that I have little 
time to write, and little inclination when I have time. 
I should not be writing to-day but that we have a holi- 
day given us to celebrate Washington's birthday, 
which occurred yesterday, (Sunday,) when we had an 
assemblage at head-quarters, and where we had a sort 
of rostrum made of drums, draped in the flag, and 
stacks of arms on each side, with the colors of the 
different regiments placed upon them. The services 
consisted of singing, prayers, an address from Chap- 
lain Oviatt of our regiment, and music by the Thir- 
teenth Connecticut band. Altogether it was a very 
interesting service. To-day, all drill and other duties 
6 



62 A MEMORIAL OF 

are suspended and games of ball, quoits and other 
amusements are occupying the men. In other brig- 
ades I understand that celebrations are going on in a 
more extensive style, but I could not leave to attend 
them. Hang the having so much responsibility ! It 
keeps me tied up like a slave. In old times when " I 
did not want to," I " wouldn't," but now I have to do 
it whether I will or no. Well, I suppose I shall enjoy 
personal liberty all the more in consequence, that is, 
when I get it. You must expect to see excessive lazi- 
ness for a little while after I come home. How jolly 
it will be to go into a house with carpets and chairs 
and pictures and a piano and to sit down at a table in 
a chair, a real chair, with a table-cloth and plates and 
knives and forks and glass and all the accoutrements 
of civilization. Why, I shall be so awkward that 1 
shall be hardly able to satisfy my hunger. I shall 
expect the whole family to fall into line and march 
into the kitchen, when the cook will give them their 
rations, and each one will sit down " tailor fashion," 
on the floor, with his plate before him and in such wise 
eat his dinner, and when it is over each one must take 
his own dishes, wash them and put them away in their 
proper place. And at night I shall want to spread 
my blanket on the floor, wi-ap my overcoat about me 
and compose myself to sleep, expecting to be roused 
at midnight by the *•' long roll," or in the morning by 
the " reveille." I shall pay no attention to the bell at 
all, but shall have to hire a drummer to beat his toc- 
sin in the hall. I wish I could drop in upon you to- 
night, unexpectedly. What a time there would be ! 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 63 

just imagine it. However, it will not do for me to 
dwell too much on such topics, for it is in every way 
desirable that I should keep up my spirits ; so good 
bye. I must be ready for dress parade. 

February 25th. 
Dear Mother : 

Another mail yesterday, bringing one or two pa- 
pers ; one illustrated from Fannie, for which I thank 
her very much. I am sure more letters are written 
and sent than I receive. Great care should be taken 
that the address be written distinctly, especially the 
25th, as we receive many letters directed to the 23d, 
because of the similarity of the figures and no doubt 
some of ours go to them. A mail is almost the only 
excitement we have just now ; everything jogs along 
as quietly as at college. The other day a rebel boat 
came down from Port Hudson, bringing prisoners for 
exchange, which amused us for a little while. The 
secesh ladies turned out in force to cheer their brave 
defenders as they went steaming up stream again. 
Some of them said they would go and kiss them, rag- 
ged and dirty as they were, if they only could. Poor 
dears, how much they must want to kiss somebody ! I 
have not seen one yet that was worth looking at, much 
less kissing. Last night the pickets had a brush with 
the enemy's cavalry, which came riding down upon 
them. Only about twenty shots were fired, but no 
harm done that I know of. The companies turned 
out at the shots, but the "long roll" did not beat and 
there was no general alarm. In a few minutes all 
was quiet again. Except these little affairs nothing 



64 A MEMORIAL OF 

happens. Lieutenant Waterman is better, also Ser- 
geant Goodwin ; so my duties are lighter. I have 
been excused from drill this afternoon which gives me 
a little leisure. My health continues good, surpris- 
ingly so ; however my time may come, but I trust to 
Providence to bring me safely back. Almost every- 
body feels the change of climate more or less, but 
the only really dangerous sickness is typhoid fever, 
which is not as yet very prevalent. The autumn is 
the most unhealthy season, but before that we shall 
be home. So I hope if I don't get shot in battle I 
shall see Hartford again in good condition. 

All the boys* are well and send their love every 
time, but I never think to put them in. So you can 
imagine them there. Rice is in the hospital as as- 
sistant steward, Taylor is adjutant's clerk. Hugg 
has got to be corporal, with good prospects. Cook, 
and Forbes, and Woodbridge and the rest are natu- 
ral as life, excepting whiskers, which have reached an 
unnatural growth. My hair is wild and long, I don't 
know whether you would know me or not. But 
enough for the present. With much love to you all, 
Your loving Son, 

D. P. Dewey. 

Camp Grover, Baton Rouge, 
March 3d, '63. 
Dear Mother: 

I have been disappointed in not receiving a letter 
from you by to-day's mail, although I did get a couple 

* The squad of which he was the corporal. 



a 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 66 

of papers, Vanity P^air and another, which mysteri- 
ously disappeared before I had opened it, and of which 
I have been unable to find a single trace. I laid it 
down and as I was very busy did not look for it for 
some time and when I did it was gone. I am sorry, 
as they are all precious, but perhaps it will turn up 
somewhere to-morrow. I did receive a letter to-day, 
which proved to be a miserable " sell."* I enclose it, 
and please keep it as a curiosity. Idon't know who 
sent it, but I think I can guess pretty near and if my 
suspicion is right wont I be even with them some time ! 

Perhaps you wonder why I am writing with ink, 
contrary to my usual custom, but the fact is I've risen 
above pencils. I'm sitting at a table with all writing 
conveniences, before me and a fire at my back. I 
don't live where I used to, I've moved, I've changed 
my boarding place, I live with Lieut. Waterman, and 
as I look over my shoulders I can see a pair of Sec- 
ond Lieutenant's straps on them ; in short, I have 
been promoted again, have received a commission, and 
the next time you write you may change Sergeant to 
Lieutenant, &c. 

Please send me by Adams' Express a copy of " Ca- 
sey's Infantry Tactics," a work of three volumes, and 
a package of paper and envelopes. I think I shall 
get it, as the Express Company have an office here, 
and our brigade will probably not move in the coming 
advance, but will remain to hold the place, so we shall 
stay here some time. 

Several days ago your letter came, also one enclos- 

* A valentine. 

6* 



66 A MEMORIAL OP 

ing Tom's. How much he improves in composition. 
I was surprised to see what a difference there was be- 
tween his last letter and his first. I have heard from 
Ashe also ; the first letter from college. I am glad to 
hear that Henry is improving in health. But I am 
anxious on your account ; almost every letter indicates 
in some way that you are not in good health, at least 
not in good spirits. I am afraid that you are worried 
and anxious about something. I hope it is not about 
me ; if it is Mother, set your heart at rest, for I am 
doing as well every way as I could wish. With the ex- 
ception of the unavoidable effect of a new climale, my 
health is as good if not better than it ever was before, 
and as for position, it is constantly improving. So, 
except the separation from home, I do not see how my 
situation could be improved. 

If you move by July 1st, I expect you will be 
nearly settled by the time I come home, which prob- 
ably will not be before the middle of September. 
There is so much confusion about the commence- 
ment of our time that everything is uncertain. If we 
were not mustered in till November 11th, our nine 
months don't end till August 11th, and it will be some 
time after that before we reach home. So don't be 
impatient but take everything quietly and trust to 
Providence to bring them out straight. Daily arri- 
vals of troops and guns are occurring and gradually 
a large force is being massed here. New gun-boats 
are constantly arriving and a few days ago a hundred 
heavy siege guns came up the river. Everything in- 
dicates an early movement in some direction. Per- 



cf 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 67 

haps it may be to Mobile, but probably to Port Hudson. 
Almost all the troops except our brigade have march- 
ing orders. Our regiment, it is said, will remain here 
to garrison the town. I am sorry, for I want to see 
some of the fighting. The rebels are growing bolder, 
their cavalry hangs around our picket lines and their 
gun-boats come down the river occasionally to recon- 
noitre. Perhaps they will try to drive us out, time 
will show. 

Col. Bissell and boys send regards. My love to all 
and please tell them to write long letters and often. 
With much love, your Son, 

D. P. Dewey. 

March 14th, 8 miles from Port Hudson. 

Dear Mother : 

We are on the move for the rebel strong hold. Port 
Hudson. Our regiment received moving orders last 
Monday eve., to be ready at a moment's notice. At 
4 A. M., Tuesday, we started and marched about five 
miles to a stream where a bridge had been destroyed 
by the rebs, which we rebuilt and then waited for the 
main column. Our company was sent off about a 
mile across the country, with a detachment of cavalry, 
to hold the wood lying nearly parallel to Port Hudson 
road. Here we fared well and had an easy time. 
Remained here, occasionally hearing and seeing the 
rebel cavalry, but having no serious contention with 
them till Friday night, when we were ordered to join 
the regiment. By this time the troops in the region 



68 A MEBIORTAL OP 

were in motion, north ; one column on the Port 
Hudson road, another nearly as large on the Clinton 
road. When we reached the 'bridge we found that 
our own and the first and second brigades had gone 
and we were ordered to follow as guards to the bag- 
gage wagons. We went about three miles in the dark 
and then camped down in a cornfield. No fires and 
no tents, and hard tack to eat. We were on the march 
again at six this morning. It is an oppressive day, 
many have dropped out ; coats and blankets and knap- 
sacks all packed, have been thrown away. I drank 
muddy water from a ditch by the roadside for the first 
time. The last five days have been full of adventure 
and at some fitting time I shall describe them more 
fully. About noon we halted in another cornfield and 
have been here ever since and will not start again 
probably, till some time in the night, perhaps not till 
morning ; but before to-morrow night there will be one 
of the hardest fought battles of the war at least com- 
menced, if not finished. Once more we can hear the 
heavy boom of cannon from the direction of the river, 
where the gun-boats have probably engaged some of 
the batteries. All the men are resting, but there is a 
fierce struggle coming and in it it may be my lot to 
fall. Well, I am ready if it be God's will. I have 
a great longing to see you all once more, but it can 
not be ; so I must sit here and make pencil and paper 
speak for me, if indeed this ever reaches you. But 
if I never come home again you must not grieve for 
me but rather contemplate the glorious cause in which 
I fell. I have every trust in a kind Providence and 



cf 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 69 

whatever he orders we must all submit to. However, 
my chances for life are as good as anybody's, a great 
many more survive than fall. The other regiments 
^re tailing in and I suppose we will in a few minutes. 
Good bye, with much love to you all. 

Your loving son, 

D. P. Dewey. 

March 16th, 1863. 
Dear Mother : 

I have a chance to send to town just now and I 
have only time to write you that I am perfectly well, 
although we have all passed through great hardships 
lately and are expecting a battle hourly. I have 
another letter under way, which I will send at the first 
opportunity. We have been traveling around the 
country through sun and rain and dust and mud, for 
the last week. Everything looks well for our cause. 
We must soon have a fight or a retreat. If I have 
another chance I will send a letter. With much love 
to you and all, 

Your affectionate son, 

D. P. D. 

Baton Rouge, March 16th, Wednesday. 
Dear Mother: 

Since I wrote you last we have seen busy and hard 
times. A week ago to-day we struck tents and the 
next morning at 4 o'clock we started with ten days' 
rations, and blankets and overcoats, our regiment hav- 



70 A MEMORIAL OF 

ing been ordered five miles up the river to rebuild a 
bridge destroyed by the rebels ; this we successfully 
accomplished and the regiment lay there till Tuesday 
last, being detached to guard another road. This pa- 
per is from the blank book of a rebel schoolmistress, 
which was confiscated, together with other articles, 
among them some valuable maps. After leaving here 
we marched about two miles and bivouaced for the 
night in an open field, and the next day we marched 
about five or six miles further and again camped in 
the open fields. This march was very severe, the sun 
being hot and the road dry. We halted about noon 
and skirmishers, both cavalry and infantry, were 
throAvn forward, it being supposed that rebel fortifica- 
tions were before us. But nothing very serious w^as 
discovered. One of Gen. Banks' aids. Col. Clark, 
was shot in the ankle and his horse killed and in fall- 
ing he broke the leg of his rider. The rebel scouts 
and our own exchanged shots, but nothing like an en- 
gagement took place. Here we remained in suspense 
all night. About sundown heavy firing was heard 
in the distance in the direction of the river, from 
which we were four or five miles distant. This con- 
tinued all night, and about midnight we could see a 
bright light gradually floating down stream, which we 
took for a fire-raft sent down by the enemy against 
our fleet. About 5 A. M. it blew up with a terrible 
explosion, which shook the ground like an earthquake, 
and then all was quiet. Late in the day it was said 
that part of our fleet had succeeded in running the 
rebel batteries, but that one of them, the Mississippi, 



'zr 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 71 

had been fired by a red hot shot from the rebs and 
had been abandoned and afterwards blown up. This 
was only rumor and we don't know whether it is true 
or not. Will you send me papers containing the ac- 
count, as it is the only way we have of learning about 
these things, for our leaders let us know as little as 
possible. We waited the next day till noon in anx- 
ious expectation of an order to move forward, but it 
did not come and shortly after our troops began to 
move back towards Baton Rouge and soon the whole 
column was falling back. Everybody was disap- 
pointed. We had expected to see the downfall of the 
rebel stronghold, which had been the subject of our 
thoughts ever since we came here, and there w^ere 
many sour looks and words of dissatisfaction. It had 
a bad effect on the men and looked marvelously like 
a retreat. But it seems it was all right ; it was only 
a movement to cover others. Our marches before 
this had been pretty hard, but they were perfect sport 
compared with this. The march and the night fol- 
lowing, (last night,) I confess I have not the power to 
describe. Soon after we started it commenced to rain 
and soon poured torrents, accompanied by heavy thun- 
der and vivid lightning. The road, before hard and 
smooth, became ankle deep with mud and water, 
overcoats and blankets became wet and heavy, knap- 
sacks were soaked through and ammunition ruined, and 
guns and cartridge boxes thrown away, and hundreds 
of men fell out by the way, unable to bear it. From 
our company, however, no one straggled, nor do I 
know of a single gun being thrown away in the regi- 



72 A MEMORIAL OF 

ment. I am well satisfied with the 25th, especially 
with Company A. So we marched till nearly dark, 
when we halted and filed into another muddy lot and 
stacked arms for the night, and a dismal prospect 
it was. No place to sleep and mud and water to stand 
in, the rain continuing to pour down in sheets. Around 
this field there w^as a fence six feet high. In ten 
minutes there was not a sign of a fence. Soon we 
had a huge fire blazing, which was some comfort to 
us. Around this we stood and sat and waited for 
morning. Some too tired to set up lay down in the 
mud, or on rails, or whatever they could find. As for 
myself I sat down on a rail and with my head on my 
knees would sleep till chilled through and then go to 
the fire and get warm. Thus sitting and standing in 
the deep mud and soaked to the skin, we spent the 
night. Our quarter-master* rode into town and back, 
sixteen miles, to get us coffee and sugar, which helped 
us somewhat. About ten it stopped raining except in 
little showers, but altogether we had a most dismal 
time. 

This morning we are gradually drying out and re- 
covering our spirits. The sun has come out and every- 
thing is prosperous. We shall probably march soon, 
but whether back into town or somewhere else no one 
knows. 

Tuesday, March 17th. 

Again we have moved. About 3 P. M. yesterday 
we packed up and leaving our mud-hole by as hot a 
march as ever I wish to see, reached our present po- 
sition which is a short distance west of our old one, 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 73 

and the change is marvellous. A more beautiful spot 
I have seldom seen. Our whole regiment and the 
second are encamped in a large and comparatively dry 
field on the river bank ; water and wood are plenty. 
The air is dry and warm and the view up and down 
the river is magnificent. We have plenty of fresh 
meat, and provisions have come out from town. All 
the men are in capital spirits, everything looks well. 
Such is a soldier's life. One day in the greatest 
misery and the next in the tallest kind of clover. 
One day nearly starved and the next living like 
princes. We should not enjoy the smooth of this life 
if it was not for an occasional rough place. I shall 
endeavor to send this to Baton Rouge to-day. I 
received your last with papers. I have just a chance 
to send my letter. Good bye. All's well. 
Yours, with love, 

D. P. D. 

Baton Rouge, March 24th. 
Dear Mother: 

Well, here we are back again on our old company 
ground, with no fighting done jet. Monday afternoon 
orders came to the division to fall back and they did, 
and here we are. They say that great ends have been 
accomplished by our late movement, (reconnoisance, 
they call it,) and it may be so, but I think it is bad 
policy to say the least, to disappoint men so, and I 
don't believe Gen. Banks will ever have an army so 
ready and so willing to fight again ; nevertheless, if 
our force was not large enough to take Port Hudson, 
7 



74 A MEMORIAL OF 

it was undoubtedly better to fall back than to attempt 
the matter and to lose after all. But we are soldiers ; 
we only receive orders and obey them unquestioningly. 
I am willing to trust our general still and believe that 
all will come right in the end. 

Now about the march back on the said Monday 
morning. When we were encamped by the river and 
before I knew anything about moving, I obtained 
leave to go into town, some seven miles. So after 
much trouble I procured a " skittish" little pony and 
proceeded to exhibit my equestrian ability to the ad- 
miring multitudes, succeeding so admirably that I only 
got thrown once. But my pluck was good and I 
made good time into town. Having transacted my 
business I started again for camp, but no sooner had I 
left the city than I was surprised to see all the road 
full of troops and baggage wagons, all on the march 
for town. This was the first intimation I had of the 
movement. As I saw no signs of Grover's Division, 
(the fourth,) I kept on, but went no farther than the 
bridge, the one previously built by our regiment, for 
which by the way we received the greatest commenda- 
tion from General Banks. This was about five miles 
from town and here I learned that our division was 
coming, so I waited for them. I wish you could have 
stood by my side on the little hill where I was and 
seen the troops go by, you would have some idea of 
an army on the march. I will describe it as well as 
I can. 

First came a detachment of cavalry, clanking and clat- 
tering along ; a cavalryman in his full equipment makes 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 75 

as much noise as a small truck wagon. Then Gen. Gro- 
ver's Staff and red flag with a 4 upon it, the number of 
his division. After him another body of cavalry. Then 
'the artillery of the 13th regiment. As they reached the 
top of the hill on the hither side of the bridge the 
bugle sounded " halt." Now the first ammunition 
wagon starts slowly down the hill, gradually growing 
faster and faster till it thunders over the bridge and 
up the hill on the other side, horses on the dead run. 
Next comes the first gun, then the next ammunition 
wagon and next gun, and so on till all the six guns 
of the battery have passed. They are followed by 
the brigadier and his staff, with a white and blue 
flag and the number of his brigade upon it. Then 
comes the infantry plodding and toiling along, caps 
thrown back to catch every breath of wind on 
their brows ; some have taken off their shoes and 
are going with bare feet, some have rolled up their 
pants — anything to be cool. Occasionally one tired 
out by the pull up the hill drops out, and seating him- 
self by the roadside, looks sorrowfully at his compan- 
ions heedlessly tramping by him. Along with these, 
contrabands and servants of all kinds, this officer's 
baggage or that man's knapsack, altogether it has 
rather a disorderly appearance, and so three or four 
regiments pass along and are followed by the second 
brigade in the same order, cavalry, artillery, infantry, 
and lastly the third brigade comes up and T join the 
company again, having willingly given up my steed to 
his owner. But before leaving the march you must 
fill up the picture by imagining a long line of white 



76 A MEMORIAL OF 

canvass covered baggage wagons with noisy and pro- 
fane drivers in front of the division, and another line 
of ambulances in the rear to pick up all the stragglers. 
And so this snake-like procession moves slowly along, 
and the rattling of wagons, the curses of drivers, the 
clatter of cavalry, and the thunder of artillery, the 
issuing of orders and the shouts, songs and laughter 
of the men, make up rather a stirring scene. This 
may give you some idea of it, but it must be seen to 
be appreciated. My first inquiry on reaching the 
25th was about my baggage which was left at camp. 
It had been packed and placed upon a steamboat to 
go to Baton Rouge by water, so I supposed it must be 
safe, but alas ! I have seen nothing of it and I don't 
believe I shaU. I have lost overcoat, rubber blanket, 
stockings, dishes, everything I took with me on the 
march except my sword, which has since made its ap- 
pearance, for which I am very thankful as it was only 
borrowed. I am troubled exceedingly to know where 
to get one as I have tried everywhere in vain. 

March 27th. 
To-day we start for the south part of the state to 
assist General Weitzel. We are all packing up and 
have orders to start immediately. 

****** 
I have my own packing to attend to, so I must be 
brief. My love to all, and be assured of my continued 

affection. 

Your loving son, 

D. P. Dewey. 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 77 

DoNALDSONViLLE, March 30th, 1863. 
Dear Mother : 

We have changed our position to this place, fifty- 
miles below Baton Rouge, on the west side of the 
river. We shall probably leave for the interior to- 
night or to-morrow morning. Our next stopping place 
will probably be Thebodeaux on the Atchafalaya, a 
river ; wherever it is I will write you when we reach 
there. Letters and papers directed as before to Don- 
aldsonville, which is one of the chief towns in Louis- 
iana, but it is a mean looking place at the best. The 
houses are all small and poor, the stores mere huck- 
ster's stalls. The inhabitants are mostly French, the 
slaves fewer than I have seen in any place I have 
seen yet ; in fact, the sooner we are out of it the bet- 
ter I shall like it. The place is fortified by a small 
earthwork called Fort Butler. There was a battle 
here last year as perhaps you may remember. There 
is one redeeming point about it and that is it has some 
pretty girls within its borders. I saw a young lady 
yesterday, for the first time since I left the North, who 
really excited my admiration. 

It is rather cool to-day for this climate ; a " Norther" 
is sweeping over the country, and the clouds look as 
if the next march would be in the wet. I hope not, 
although I've no objections to cooler weather. The 
boat leaves in a few minutes, so I have only time for thi» 
hasty letter, I will do better next time. Love to all. 
Your loving son, 

D. P. Dewey. 



78 A MEMORIAL OP 

Bayou Boeuf., La., April 8d. 

Dear Mother : 

At length we have brought up for a short time 
away here in the central part of the state, after a 
march of three days and a night in the cars. I am 
surprised at the country we are in ; I had looked upon 
it in imagination as almost a wilderness, but instead it 
is the garden of Louisiana. The best and the largest 
plantations, both cotton and sugar, are here. The 
country is cut up by innumerable bayous and lakes, 
which are many of them navigable to the largest ves- 
sels. The vegetation is the most luxuriant I ever 
saw. The woods are dense and filled with all manner 
of trees and shrubs, creepers and climbers. The 
swamps are the most impassable looking arrangements 
imaginable. No wonder runaway slaves take to them, 
the most expert hunter could hardly find them. The 
water is still and black with stumps and logs decaying 
in it. Li summer weather some of these logs prove to 
be alligators. The trees are tall and dark and covered 
with pendant moss, giving them a most ghost-like ap- 
pearance. In clumps below are all manner of rank, 
large, broad-leaved, brilliant flowered plants. The 
greatest stillness and darkness hang over everything. 
The best word to describe it is " pokerish." However, 
like all other things, it must be seen to be appreciated, 
and perhaps some day you may take a fancy to travel 
this way and then you can judge for yourself. We 
have done some grand marching. We were three 
days on the road. On the first we started from Don- 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 79 

aldsonville, our direction being westward up the Bayou 
Lafouiche. The day was fortunately cool, but the 
rnen I think suffered more this day than all the rest. 
Our marching was rapid, and the road a hard baked 
clay with no spring in it, which used up our feet woe- 
fully, and great was the rejoicing when we halted and 
went into camp, about half-past one. Then followed 
the scene which always follows the halting of an army. 
The ranks are broken and the arms are stacked, when 
numerous gallant defenders of their country's rights 
strike a double quick for the nearest fence and soon are 
seen returning with what used to be a fence but is now 
transformed into wonderfully good fire-wood or elas- 
tic couches for the aforesaid gallant defenders. At 
the same time numerous squeals in the adjacent field 
announce the demise of sundry innocent porkers, or a 
shot or two tell of fresh beef for the morrow. Con- 
trabands may be seen coming in with a chicken in one 
hand and corn bread or some other edible in the other. 
On the night in question, a flock of sheep came trot- 
ting innocently into camp with wonder depicted on 
their countenances, which expression soon changed to 
terror as they scattered in all directions, pursued by 
sticks and stones and bayonets and shouting heroes. 
In less than five minutes there was not a single sheep 
alive. Company A secured two and mutton was our 
breakfast next morning. Soon fires are blazing in all 
directions, black camp kettles are hung and coffee 
made. Some of the men go for water, othel^, ijuild 
their shelters for the night, while slowly limping along 
the stragglers come in and sink down wearily into 
their places. Guards are soon mounted and order 



80 A MEMORIAL OF 

reigns again. This night I was officer of the guard, 
tired and weary as I was, and to add to my afflictions 
an ugly mule hit me a kick in the hip as I was pass- 
ing him. I dare say I thought something wicked 
though I did not say it. Our camp was at a small 
village, the only name for which that I could discover 
was " Church." A church being such a rare institu- 
tion in this heathen land as to serve for a landmark. 
We started next morning about half-past seven and 
marched about the same distance as before, passing 
through the village of Napoleonville and camping 
about a mile east of another town called Labordier- 
ville, near which our forces had a brush last year 
with the enemy. Several balls and shells were found 
on the ground. I was obliged to ride the last two 
miles on account of my hip which was rather lame. 
The next day we were on the march at sunrise, our 
brigade having the advance, and expecting to go to 
Thebodauxville and there camp ; but we reached the 
place, the most enterprising place I have seen, marched 
through it and about five miles beyond, and I assure 
you these were five long miles. We had made up 
our minds that we were to stop at Thebodeaux, and 
our courage flagged when we went beyond, especially 
as we made a long stretch of five miles at a swinging 
old pace. The 13th Connecticut has a tremendous 
reputation for marching, but I think their stragglers 
rather exceeded ours in number on that tramp. We 
halted about half a mile beyond the railroad station 
and prepared for the night, but we were not allowed 
to escape so easily. Soon orders came to be ready to 
move again and at nightfall we had trudged back to 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 81 

the cars, loaded all our baggage, and then piled in 
ourselves, some inside and some on the top, I occupy- 
ing an outside seat to my intense disgust, as the cin- 
ders flew enough to blind me. At nine the train, 
the longest and heaviest I ever saw, started, and at 11 
P. M. reached this place where we unloaded ourselves 
and made our camp after a march of fifteen miles and 
a ride of twenty-five. So here we are now under the 
command of Gen. Weitzel, who left this place just be- 
fore we arrived. The r2th Conn, is in his division, 
and one company (A) of it was captured on board the 
steamer Diana in a skirmish at Pattersonville, a short 
distance from here on the Bayou. They were all 
paroled and I have found an acquaintance amongst 
them, Charles Sherman, formerly of the Courant 
office. The rest of the 12th has gone with Gen. 
Weitzel to Brashear city, about seven miles west of 
here, where we may probably go next. We shall 
probably be in this country sometime, and I do not 
know that I object to it. A railroad runs direct to 
Algiers, opposite New Orleans, so that mail and ex- 
press connection is good. The country is rich and so 
far as I can learn, healthful ; what do we want more ? 
The 25th is all right ; they have not had the terrible sick- 
ness that you have heard of. Company A. is all right. 
We may have a scrimmage as Weitzel is one of the 
fightino; sort. Please remember me to all my friends, 
and when you write direct as before. With much love 
to you and all. 

Your affectionate son, 

D. P. I3EWEY. 



82 A MEMORIAL OP 

The following letter of Perkins, written only 
ten days before his death, to a favorite little 
cousin, breathes so much of the tenderness of 
an elder brother, while at the same time we are 
reminded of the sportiveness of boyhood, that 
it must interest the reader. 

Bayou Boeuf., La., April 4th, '63. 

My dear little Cousin : 

I have heard from you frequently but have not been 
able to return the favor until now. We have lately 
been marching and moving all around the country 
and sleeping on the ground without tents at night, 
some of them pretty cold nights, although the days 
are hot as 'lection. But now we have our tents all 
pitched again and it looks as if we should be here for 
some time ; I hope so, for we all need rest. March- 
ing through the hot sun, over dusty roads, with salt 
pork and " hard tack" to eat and muddy water to 
drink, is very good for a little while, but it soon " plays 
out." 

This is a beautiful country where we are now. The 
woods are full of wild roses and all kinds of beautiful 
flowers. Pretty little lizards of all colors play around 
the stumps and logs. Sweet little snakes and big ones 
too, come out to sun themselves or amuse themselves 
by running races over your neck in the night. Cun- 
ning little alligators live in all the swamps and listen 
to the music of the fine-voiced musquitoes. I caught 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 83 

three crabs the other day by holding ray foot in the 
water till they bit, when I threw them upon shore ! 
You may believe this if you want to, but I should not 
if I were you. 

If I was in Hartford I would come down to New 
Haven to-morrow and see you and bring you a lot of 

nice things. We'd go and see Mrs. , and walk 

home through Chapel street, or else as it's Sunday, 
Easter Sunday, too, we Avould go to church and ijot 
sit with the girls. But it's no use to talk so. Here I 
am away down in the Louisiana lowlands, hundreds of 
miles from my little Cousin Julia whom I shall not 
see for a long time. You must send me one of your 
photographs sure, so that I can see how you look. I 
suppose you must have grown a great deal since I 
left home. It seems a long while to me. 

Now for a little serious talk with you. You must 
be a good girl and learn all you can. By-and-by when 
you get* older, you will be glad if you do and sorry if 
you don't. You must love your mother and my 
mother and Fannie. I think a great deal more about 
them now that I am separated from them and perhaps 
I shall never see them again at all. You will soon be 
old enough to be of use to them and you Jmust learn 
all you can and be as useful as you can. 

You ask me it" I have any higher office. Well, 
ye.s, I have gone a little higher, I'm Second Lieutenant 
of Company A ; so when you write you must direct 
to Lieut. Dewey and not to Sergeant Dewey. There 
isn't any such man now, he is " played out." I expect 
to be brigadier-general, or some such thing before I 



84 A MEMORIAL OP 

come home ; so you must get all fixed to give me a 
grand reception. 

Well, I have come to the end of my paper and 
ideas, and there is nothing left but to send my love to 
all the girls and a large share to yourself. 
Good bye, 

Your loving cousin, 

D. P. Dewey. 

Transport St. Mart, April 11th. 

10 P. M. Dear Mother: 

Again we are crowded, jammed, jostled and suffo- 
cated on one of Uncle Sam's transports. For the last 
three hours I have tossed and turned and suffered and 
thought wicked, if I did not say it. In the top berth 
in a close state room, breathing air second hand from 
the lungs of a crowded cabin. I have given it up and 
am beaten, and can not sleep, so I have retired to the 
depths of a lower cabin and on the dining table by 
the light of an oil lamp I am writing to you. I am 
wet to the skin with perspiration. Fine condition I 
shall be in for the fight we are going to have to-mor- 
row. It is abominable the way they cram these trans- 
ports. The St. Mary is a fine large steamship, but 
just imagine it; there are four regiments squeezed 
into her besides a battery of artillery and from fifty 
to a hundred horses. We are lying off Brashear City 
at the head of Berwick Bay, expecting soon to start 
for up river somewhere to cut the retreat of the 
rebels. A strong force will attack them in front. 
They, the rebels, are at Pattersonville, where the 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 85 

Diana was captured by them and strongly entrenched. 
Heavy firing has been heard in that direction all day, 
either the beginning of the fight or artillery practice. 
I say this is the plan, which means that we all think 
so, but I have been deceived so often in expectation 
that in the future I will be certain of nothing till it is 
over. We may accomplish no more on this trip than 
we did at Port Hudson. Our movements are lament- 
ably slow and the rebs find out everything before we 
accomplish anything. However, Banks is in com- 
mand and it won't do for him to remain inactive much 
longer. So I think there is work for us somewhere. 
Just as we were leaving camp to-day to embark, a train 
came in from New Orleans, which brought us a mail 
containing a letter from you and one from Fannie. I 
wrote you last from Bayou Boeuf, which place we left 
about ten on Wednesday the ninth, and a scorching 
day it was. We marched in the middle of the day 
some ten miles to Brashear City — a place by the way 
not half as large as West Hartford ; and to the credit 
of the 25th be it said, it had fewer men fall out than 
any other regiment in the division. When I look at 
this I am half a mind to tear it up, but you will allow 
for circumstances. I am going to try to get a nap on 
a neighboring lounge, so good night. 

That " Good night" was for the last time ; 
and if it is saddening to reflect upon the cir- 
cumstances under which it was written, cir- 
cumstances which ive think ought to have been 
seen and avoided, there is a consolation in 



86 A MEMORIAL OP 

knowing, in the instance of this young patriot 
and Christian, that it was almost the last night 
of " weariness and painfulness" that ever he 
would be called to endure. The sands of his 
glass were rapidly running out ; the hour was 
coming to him on swift wings, 

" When in the mansions of the blest 
Death leaves to its eternal rest, 
The weary soul." 

The battle to which he was looking forward 
" in the morning," at the time of his writing to 
his mother on the 11th of April, did not take 
place till the morning of the 14th. It was 
some days after the event that tidings came of 
a battle and a victory at Irish Bend, and while 
the hearts of a multitude amongst us were wa- 
vering most painfully between hope and fear, 
for the dear friends whom they knew must have 
been in the fatal strife, came the sad " List of 
casualties," and amongst the first names of the 
fallen stood the name of " Lieutenant D. P. 
Dewey ! " The particulars of his heroic deatli 
soon followed, and they might well constitute 
a page in that history which hereafter shall 
be written, — a page in which the young soldier 
who went forth witli the single thought of 
" duty" as his watchword, until he stood face to 
face with death in deadly conflict, unflinching, 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 8T 

firm, serene — might be placed side by side with 
that which tells the story of the dying martyr, 
who bowed before the stern king of terrors in 
holy calmness and humility, rather than desert 
the standard of his Christian faith ! 

The first letter which brought the fatal news 
that this brave young soldier had fallen, was 
written to his parents by Lieut. Leander Water- 
man, of his company. 

It becomes my painful duty to communicate to you 
the intelligence of your son's death. We embarked 
on transports Saturday evening. Sunday we started 
up Grand Lake, Monday landed, went two or three 
miles and lay on our arms on the ground that night. 
Tuesday morning we fell in, just before daybreak, 
went about a mile, when the five companies on the 
right wing of the regiment were ordered to deploy. 
Company A had the right as usual ; in this way we 
advanced quite a distance. When near the woods we 
were fired upon ; we lay down, firing at the places 
where we saw the smoke of the enemy. The right 
(five companies) was a short distance behind. The 
battery of the enemy opened upon the five companies 
of the regiment in reserve. In about half an hour 
the regiment was ordered to advance. They passed 
the line of skirmishers, and then Company A formed 
on the right of the regiment. Before, while deployed, 
we had the right of the skirmishers. We were the 
most exposed of all. We had formed the right about 



88 A MEMORIAL OP 

five minutes when I was struck in the left arm near 
the shoulder, the ball passing through the arm and 
lodging in the side. I stayed until I was so faint I 
could not support myself, and was then helped from 
the field. In less than five minutes we were out- 
flanked on the right and had to fiill back. Lieutenant 
Dewey was shot in the head, the ball striking the left 
side just above the ear, and passing out at the fore- 
head. He was left for a few 'moments on the field, 
but as the enemy were driven back, (less than five 
minutes,) I sent a stretcher and had him brought in. 
He was found just as some of the men saw him fall. 
He had not been molested by the enemy. He was 
unconscious, moved his head and his hands for a short 
time, and then died. I was not able to be about, but 
I left him in the hands of good men. A cofiin was 
made for him, also one for Captain Hayden of Com- 
pany C, who was shot through the head. They were 
buried side by side, Wednesday morning, and the 
place marked. ***** 

He died a hero, the best could do no more. I trust 
he now wears an immortal crown, which will never 
fade. 

Our regiment lost from eighty to ninety, killed and 
wounded. 

I am not able to write more now. I am at St. 
John's hospital, doing well but weak. 
Yours, with much sympathy, 

Leander Waterman, 
Lieut. Company A, 25th regiment. 



C7 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 89 

The following beautiful tribute to Lieutenant 
Dewey's character is from the pen of his friend 
Col. Ward.* 

My friend Dewey joined Company A, 25th Regi- 
ment Conn. Vols., on the 9th of September, 1862. 
His general acquirements and reliable character soon 
marked him for advancement ; he was almost imme- 
diately made a corporal, and subsequently, by the 
personal selection of the colonel, right general guide 
of the regiment with the rank of sergeant. 

It was at this time my more intimate acquaintance 
with him began. Our places in line and column were 
very near each other ; we occupied the same tent and 
slept side by side. Long before we reached Louisiana 
I had learned to love him, to honor his singularly 
truthful nature, and to look with confident certainty 
to the day when he should earn and receive his com- 
mission. 

When the regiment landed in the enemy's country 
he volunteered to go on the first picket duty which 
offered, and with a squad of picked men under his 
command, held, through our first night of service, the 
most advanced position of the whole army. 

During our stay at Baton Rouge, his services as 
regimental guide were of high order, his habits of out- 
door exercise, and accuracy of eye, especially quali- 
fying him for the position. 

My promotion, in January, 1863, somewhat inter- 
rupted the daily intercourse between us ; it was how- 

* Formerly Adjutant of the 25th Regiment. 

8* 



90 A MEMORIAL OP 

ever soon followed by his own lieutenancy, and seven 
days before the regiment started on its first march 
upon Port Hudson, I had the gratification of seeing on 
his shoulders the straps which no one ever wore more 
worthily. 

From the 10th of March we were continuously in 
the field, and his value as an officer was more and 
more apparent. With the exception of a short illness 
he was always on duty, and (as regimental adjutant 
I have reason to know it) whenever a man of relia- 
bility and quick intelligence was needed, his name 
naturally suggested itself for the employment. 

On the 13th of April, 1863, we landed on the west 
coast of Grand Lake, and, the enemy being driven 
before us, marched toward Irish Bend. I did not 
see him during that march or in the night's bivouac ; 
we next met under fire on the 14th. 

This is not the place to attempt a description of the 
battle of that day. Dewey's company was the first 
engaged, his only superior officer soon wounded, and 
this second lieutenant of scarcely a month's standing 
was left in command of the flank company of the 
whole brigade engaged. How nobly and bravely he 
met the responsibilities of that hour his glorious death 
bears witness. Standing unmoved in a rain of bul- 
lets, he had a word of encouragement for every man 
near him, kindly greeting for a friend and even a 
merry quotation from a favorite song to fling after a 
shell that went shrieking by. So I last saw him — so 
I shall always remember him. 

Were I asked what traits of Dewey's character 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 91 

most impressed me, I should reply, his truthfulness 
and evenness of temper. More quiet and sober in 
his manner than most men — especially most soldiers 
of his age, he varied less from day to day than any of 
us. Easily gay, he was never boisterous ; quietly kind 
he was never demonstrative. His habits of study 
were an example to many older officers. His pro- 
fessional knowledge great and rapidly growing ; few 
gave greater promise of usefulness, no one is more 
grieved for by all who knew him. 

Henry C. Ward. 

Letter from Adjutant Ward to Mr. and Mrs. 
Dewey. 

Bivouac of the 28th Regt. Conn. Vols., 
Near Vekmillionsville, April 16, '63. 

On the day the regiment left Hartford, you prob- 
ably remember you spoke to me regarding the welfare 
of your noble son. That conversation and the warm 
love I have learned to feel for him seem to make it 
my province to write to you some account of his glo- 
rious death, which I take occasion to do to-day ; the 
first halt we have made in pursuit of the flying enemy 
whom he gave his life to conquer. 

Before receiving this you will probably have heard 
of our victory and of his fall. The papers will have 
told you all they could ; but an eye witness alone 
could tell you the particulars of his bravery and dar- 
ing, which your loss must make doubly important. 
Early in the fight. Lieutenant Waterman being 
wounded, your son succeeded to the command of Com- 



92 A MEMORIAL OF 

pany A. The whole regiment line was deployed as 
skirmishers, when the right flank was suddenly at- 
tacked by two full regiments of the enemy, the 15th 
Louisiana and a Texas regiment. It was at that 
time that I saw your son, and the sight I never shall 
forget. Waving his sword above his head, calling to 
his men, " Remember you are Company A" — his whole 
bearing so brave and heroic that it seemed almost im- 
possible for any enemy to avoid marking him. He 
was soon fatally struck and fell headlong amongst the 
cane rows where he fought. This was about 7.50 
on the morning of the 14th. He was, I think, en- 
tirely insensible till his death, which was as well as 
I could judge about one, P. M. I did not see him 
from the time he was carried off the field till about 
six in the afternoon, when I was able to leave the 
regiment, but I gave him in charge to a most estima- 
ble man, S. S. Folwell of Company A, and I found 
that everything kind and considerate had been done 
by him for my lost friend. His body had been washed 
and decently prepared for interment. I could scarcely 
believe he was more than asleep, his face was so calm 
and beautiful, no rigidity, no contortion, but every- 
thing at peace and rest. I kissed his cold lips and 
never saw him again. We marched again that night, 
but to-day Folwell has come up and given the particu- 
lars of his interment. He was buried on the morning 
of the 15th, on a little knoll sixty-five paces from and 
behind an old sugar mill on the battle-field. He is in 
the same grave with Captain Hayden, the former on 
the right, your son on the left, as you stand at the 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 93 

head of the grave- A head-board was placed above 
them deeply cut. Nothing further could have been 
done. What few valuables and relics that were about 
him I have saved and they are in the hands of Lieu- 
tenant Waterman in hospital at New Orleans. They 
are principally his watch, a ring, a college society 
badge* and some buttons from his vest. I enclose a 
lock of his hair, which I cut myself from his head. 
I don't see that I can tell you more. My sorrow to 
write this must bow before yours, when you receive it, 
yet I must claim some little share in the loss you have 
suffered ; some little pride that the hero who has gone, 
while he was your son, he was my friend. 
Yours, sincerely, 

H. C. Ward, Adjutant. 

This last letter, although written before the 
tribute to Lieutenant Dewey's character, by 
Colonel Ward, seemed so connected with this 
which follows, that we place it next in order. 

From Mr. Folwell. 

Mrs. Dewey, Dear Madam: 

Concerning the matter of which you spoke, I will 
endeavor to mention some of the prominent charac- 
teristics which drew me towards, and made me feel 
interested in Lieutenant Dewey. He seemed earnest 
in his avocation, and determined to excel as a soldier ; 

* "B. ,B." Trinity College. 



9-1 A MEMORIAL OP 

ready to do his duty, however disagreeable it might 
be ; was pleasant and cheerful to all around him, 
notwithstanding the many annoyances and aggrava- 
tions which attend a soldier's life. Evidently a deep 
thinker and great reader, much of his leisure time 
being spent in reading and meditation. These are 
some of the qualities for which I admired him, but 
most because I believed him to be a Christian. Not 
perfect, of course, for we none of us attain to perfec- 
tion here, but showing by his life that he was gov- 
erned by high moral principles, — actuated by a desire 
to do right, from a love of right, rather than merely 
to please. Never engaging in those vices which per- 
vade the camp, or stooping to that which was low or 
dishonorable, by w^hich so many degrade themselves, 
because separated from near friends and home influ- 
ences. I believe he would indulge in nothing in camp 
that he would not do among his friends in Hartford. 
He was fond of singing, and I remember as we were 
sailing up the lake on board the St. Mary, on the 
second evening before the battle, a number of us who 
were in the habit of singing together, collected to 
have a social sing. Dewey was in his state room, hav- 
ing complained all day of not feeling well, but there 
were loud calls for him to come and sing ; he soon 
made his appearance, and tried to excuse himself, but 
after some urging yielded, and .sat down among us, on 
the deck and joined with us, soon becoming very much 
animated, more than usual, seeming to enjoy it greatly, 
making some such remark as this : '* he believed it 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 95 

was better for him than medicine." Alas ! how little 
he thought it would be the last time we should ever 
sing together in this world. 

' On the morning of the battle, the first I remember 
distinctly about him was after Lieutenant Waterman 
received his wound, at which time Dewey was trying 
to fasten a tourniquet upon the arm. As I came up 
he left it with me to finish, he taking command of the 
company. Waterman being disabled, I went with 
him at his request to the rear. Wliile returning to 
the front, I met several members of our company, 
who said, " We are all cut up and Lieutenant Dewey 
is killed." In a few minutes the firing ceased — then 
Sergeant Parmelee, Mr. Sage and myself, went in 
search of him. We had gone perhaps half way to 
the spot, when we met two men bringing him in on a 
stretcher ; we took it from them and carried it the 
rest of the way ourselves. I saw that life was not 
extinct, for he moved his head. As soon as we 
reached the place where the doctor was, I called him 
and asked what was to be done. He replied, " It will 
be useless attempting to do anything." The most v/e 
could do was to make his last moments as comfortable 
as possible. I procured some spirit and water, and 
with a small sponge moistened his lips, but on my at- 
tempting to do it a second time, he turned his head 
and raised his hand, as though he did not wish it, but 
would rather be left entirely undisturbed. I spoke to 
him several times but he showed no signs of recog- 
nition and although he rolled his head and opened his 
eyes occasionally, did not seem conscious of what was 



96 A MEMORIAL OF 

going on around him. One of the ambulance men 
came to me and said they must have the stretcher on 
which he was lying; so we raised him carefully on a 
blanket and laid him on a spot of soft plowed ground. 
I then got Martin Hills to hold a rubber blanket to 
shield him from the sun, while I procured some sticks 
with which I made a more permanent shelter. In 
this condition he lay about five hours, breathing his 
last near half past one o'clock, passing away without 
a groan or struggle. I then had him taken to the 
sugar-house and laid beside other officers. Sergeant 
Parmelee then came to me and said it was the Adju- 
tant's wish that 1 should take charge of the body and 
see that it was buried as decently as it could be under 
the circumstances. After I had washed off the face 
and hair, the adjutant came in and after giving a few 
directions he stooped down and kissed the marble 
forehead, the tears coursing down his cheeks, and ex- 
claimed, " Poor Dewey, noble boy ! " The next morn- 
ing Sergeant Callehan and myself procured some 
boards and made a box in which we put the remains, 
which, with the assistance of Sergeant Cook, we buried 
about twelve o'clock. There was no religious service 
of any kind, but we laid him sadly and silently down 
to rest till God shall call him. Sergeant Otis marked 
a large board, cutting the letters deep with a knife, 
" Lieut. D. P. Dewey, Co. A. 25th Reg't C. V."— 
which were placed firmly in the ground at the head 
of the grave. I do not know certainly what his last 
words were, but I was told the last he was heard to 
say was, when he found the regiment was to fall back, 



a 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 97 

" Well, boys, if we have got to fall back don't let us 
do it in disorder." These are the circumstances con- 
nected with his death and burial as far as I can recall 
them. There may have been incidents that would be 
interesting to you and other friends, but you know 
during such a time of excitement many things must 
transpire w^hich can not afterwards be called to mind. 
Any further information which I can give I will give 
willingly, I should have written this before but ray 
time has been so occupied that I could hardly have 
an evening to call my own. 

Truly yours, 

Samuel P. Folwell. 

Part of a letter from Sergeant Cooke, a mem- 
ber of young Dewey's squad, to Mrs. Dewey. 
After giving some particulars concerning the 
place of his burial, which have already been 
related, he adds his own affectionate tribute to 
the purity of the character of his friend. 

Concerning his example as a Christian, I can say 
that I always considered his example good and worthy 
of imitation. I never knew of his doing anything in- 
consistent with his profession as a Christian. You 
may have the consolation of knowing that he never 
gave occasion for any stories which might pain you. 
You may well be proud of such a son. With his 
squad he was a great favorite. ' They knew him but 
to love him, and he always seemed to think a great 

9 



98 A MEMORIAL OF 

deal of them. He was kind and always ready to do 
a favor. 

I do not remember who suggested the plan of read- 
ing a chapter in the Bible every night. We carried 
out the custom as long as the squad remained unbro- 
ken, which was up to two or three days of the battle 
on the 14th of April. Then there was left only 
Woodbridge and myself and our Bibles were left in 
our knapsacks. You remember we left them at Bra- 
shear City to receive them again in three or four days. 
He bore up under the march to Port Hudson the first 
time and also from Baton Rouge without a murmur, 
at least none ever reached my ears. 

If anything I have written will be of service to 
you, I shall be very glad, though I fear it is but little. 
Yours, respectfully, 

Aaron Cooke. 

Extract of a letter from Colonel Bissell, of 
the twenty-fifth regiment, to the father of Lieu- 
tenant Dewey. 

The death of your son was a very great loss to me, 
and to the company and regiment. I had noticed 
him from his very marked promptness and activity in 
his position in the company, and I was not slow in 
promoting him as soon as I could ; I rejoiced at the 
opportunity. 

One circumstance connected with his part in the 
battle perhaps will interest you. He used to sing a 
song commencing, 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 99 

" There is music in the air 
When the infant morn is young." 

' In the fight, when the enemy first opened with their 
field-pieces, the shell went over our heads with a 
shriek and a loud whistle ; your son was near me at 
the time directing his company, and as the shells 
passed over us, he turned to me in his most cheerful 
manner, and said he, " Colonel," 

" There is music in the air." 

I have now forgotten my reply, but he went on 
cheering his men. I noticed him several times and 
he was always at his post, and I was struck by his 
cheerful and utterly fearless manner. He died as he 
had lived, cheerful and fearless and good. 

I had learned during our short acquaintance to love 
him, and when the word came to me that Dewey had 
fallen, I was for the moment unmanned. I write 
with considerable feeling, for I had formed for him 
an attachment stronger than usual, and when he fell I 
felt that I had lost a personal friend, and more than a 
friend, almost a brother or a son. 

I sympathize with you deeply in your bereavement 
and feel that I myself need sympathy. I will add 
that I saw him just before he was removed for burial. 
I went alone into the sugar-house where he lay ; the 
rays of the setting sun shone into the window and fell 
across his face ; his countenance was calm as if in 
sleep, his face beautiful in death. I brushed away 
the hair from his brow, and closed his eyes and shed 



100 A MEMORIAL OF 

ray first tear of that day, over one who so promising 
had been stricken down. 

Till that moment I had not realized the sternness 
required of one who leads men to danger, but I sat 
down beside poor Dewey and gave way to tears. 

Colonel Bissell says again on writing of this 
brave young Lieutenant : 

He was much beloved as an officer, and as a man, 
and the entire regiment mourns his loss. 

Of the manner in which he sustained himself, 
writes Lieut. Colonel Weld, in command of the com- 
pany, I can speak from personal observation. No 
company was so well held together, none did greater 
service. Lieutenant Dewey constantly exposed his 
own person, showing an utter fearlessness in discharge 
of his duty. He could hardly have justly considered 
that part of his duty which required him to take all 
proper means to preserve his own life to his company 
and country, not to say his friends. He showed him- 
self in all respects to be an excellent officer. * * 

My affection for your son was very sincere, and I 
believe it was reciprocated. Blessed is he, who, 
loving Jesus better than all on earth, can bow with 
submission to such a blow. God grant you] and all 
who loved your son, grace to do so. 

And again : 

My affection for him grew daily. He possessed all 
the points of a good soldier ; was brave, discreet, 



a- 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 101 

reliable, prompt, and as an officer, just and discrimin- 
ating, showing excellent judgment. In the camp and 
in the field, as at home, he exhibited all the points of 
a high-minded, cultivated Christian gentleman. Be- 
loved by all and sincerely mourned, his example is one 
to be emulated, and his memory will be ever fragrant. 

Extract from a letter from Lieutenant Colo- 
nel Weld, to the father of Lieutenant Dewey, 

Before Port Hudson, June, 1863. 

With fresh sadness the thought of your noble son 
and my sorrow recur to mind. Freed from wars and 
tumults he is at rest in a soldier's grave, where the 
silent waters of the little river called the Teche, filled 
with lillies and water-plants, and overhung with elms 
and oaks, flow by, and the tall corn and cane-fields 
wave in the breeze and grow luxuriantly green ; where 
the wounded and dying were brought to the field hos- 
pital on that fatal day. That grave is well marked, 
near a large sugar-house, where none but malicious 
hands can disturb the precious clay. 

You need not the assurance of my deep sympathy 
nor of the affection with which Perkins was regarded 
both by his fellow-officers and the soldiers of the 25th, 
and you may depend that should opportunity occur, any 
one of us would cheerfully render any aid we could 
to secure a safe and proper transmit of his remains. 

We can not refrain from making an extract 
from a most delightfully written volume enti- 
9* 



102 A MEMORIAL OF 

tied the "Color-Guard," by J. K. Hosmer, 
where a description of the battle-field, where 
Lieut. Dewey, with so many other of our brave 
soldiers fell, is given, so vivid in its painful 
details that we seem almost to stand with the 
eye-witness, who says : 

" Day broke as we marched out into the road, — a 
listless, half-exhausted body of men. During the 
three previous nights we had had but little sleep and 
but little food since the Saturday before. It was now 
Tuesday. We were all more or less drenched with 
the rain, and the blankets and clothing weighed double 
with the moisture. As the sun came up, however, 
and the morning damps steamed off, we felt better, 
and had our senses open a little to the beauty of the 
road, the sweetness of the blossoms, and the verdure of 
the slopes. 

Presently we hear the sound of firing. "They 
have found them again," I say to the color-sergeant, 
and we look off over the woods to where the white cloud 
of the discharge can be seen rising among the trees. 
As we sweep along the road towards the firing, the 
day each minute becomes more and more beautiful. 
Each minute, too, the roar of the cannon is more 
frequent and becomes mingled at last with sharp, rat- 
tling volleys of small arms. We come at last, into 
full view of the scene.* We halt in the road, and 
leaning against a fence, looking southward through 
the rails, the whole combat is visible to us, who 
are now within cannon-range. We look down a 
* Irish Bend. 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 103 

gentle slope. To the left we can see a battery posted, 
which fires very vigorously ; then the bodies of in- 
fantry in long dark lines, moving upon an open field 
in front of a wood. In the lines are gaps which may 
be caused by moving over rough ground, or by the 
plunge of shot and shell. To the right again we can 
see bodies of troops and batteries. Hear that long 
crash of musketry ! each individual discharge so blend- 
ing into the others, that we can only hear one long 
sound, like the slow fall of some huge tower. It is a 
rebel volley, terribly effective, as we afterwards hear; 
and while the wind bears it to us, we are ordered for- 
ward, and presently are on the very field. 

Ambulance men, with stretchers, are hurrying 
across the field to a sugar-house in the rear, where 
a hospital is established. On each stretcher is a 
wounded man, and the number of these makes it cer- 
tain that the engagement has reached the sad dignity 
of a pitched battle. We are passing ammunition 
wagons now ; now a tree, beneath which is a surgeon 
at work, and close where he stands, on his back, stiff 
and stark, dead, a tall, broad-chested man, with closed 
eyes. The column files to the right, out of the road, 
and we stand in line of battle just in the rear of the 
action, within rifle range of the woods where the 
enemy lie concealed, expecting every moment the 
order to advance. The firing, however, slackens, and 
presently word comes that the enemy are with- 
drawing. 

Between the color-company and the next company, 
through the center of our line, runs the cart-track 



104 A MEMORIAL OP 

down into the field, along which is now constantly 
passing a stream of wounded men, on stretchers, or 
supported by comrades, and lines of rebel prisoners. 
I am close by and can hear the talk of a sergeant, 
bloody, but able to walk, who is glad he has a chance 
to do some service. / look^ too, upon the ghastly head 
of a young Lieutenant who is dying upon his stretcher* 
and upon many others. Prisoners come in by squads, — 
sometimes five or six, sometimes twenty or thirty. 
Once in a while there is an intelligent, good looking 
face ; more often the features are unintelligent, — the 
brutish face of that deteriorating class, the white trash. 
Thus we stand close at hand to suffering and death. 

The pursuit is being continued down the road. 
Hours pass, and we still remain in line. We cook, eat, 
and sleep. I get out my portfolio and write a little. 
In the course of the day, up into the blue calm sky go 
mighty columns of smoke, with deep reports, — the ex- 
plosions of rebel gunboats and transports, overtaken in 
the Teche by the victorious army, and blown up by the 
crews as they flee. Within half a dozen rods of our line 
is a field hospital, where lie, of one New York regiment, 
the wounded colonel, the dead lieutenant colonel, 
adjutant, and other officers and men. Of other regi- 
ments, too, are many wounded, federal and rebel, — 
some dying under the surgeon's hands. I go over and 
see the writhing wounded, and the hospital attendants 
laying out the dead. An Irish private lies close by 
the straight young adjutant, whose face is reverently 

* This it is supposed, was Lieutenant Dewey. 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 105 

covered ; and not far off is a rebel, covered thick 
with his own gore. Before death go down all distinc- 
tions and animosities. Does it not seem when tlie ex- 
periences a'-e so out of the common course, and so 
dreadful, as if there ought to be some change in out- 
ward circumstances to make them correspond ? But 
no : it was a perfect summer day, — an almost cloud- 
less sky, with a cool, sweet wind coming from the 
woods where the rebels had been hidden ; the woods 
green and fresh and innocent, as if they were only a 
haunt for fairies. * * * * 

They say we lost in the neighborhood of four hun- 
dred. Only one brigade was engaged. It was a 
bloody strife." 

We are reminded of Whittier's beautiful 
" Battle Autumn of 1862," wliich for its great 
beauty we give to the reader in this place, 
believing that those who have never read it 
will dwell upon it' with delight ; while those 
to whom it is familiar will welcome the sweet 
religious strain again. 

" The flags of war like storm-birds fly, 

The charging trumpets blow ; 
Yet rolls no thunder in the sky, 

No earthquake strives below. 

And, calm and patient, Nature keeps 

Her ancient promise well, 
Though o'er her bloom and greenness sweep 

The battle's breath of hell. 



106 A MEMORIAL OP 

And still she Avalks in golden hours 
Through harvest-happy farms ; 

And still she wears her fruits and flowers 
Like jewels on her arms. 

What mean the gladness of the plain, 
The mirth of eve and morn, 

The mirth that shakes the beard of grain, 
And yellow locks of corn ? 

Ah, eyes may well be full of tears 
And hearts with hate are hot ; 

But even-paced come round the years, 
And Nature changes not. 

She meets with smiles our bitter grief, 
With songs our groans of pain ; 

She mocks with tint of flower and leaf 
The war-field's crimson stain. 

Still, in the cannon's pause we hear 
Her sweet thanksgiving psalm ; 

Too near to God for doubt or fear, 
She shares the eternal calm. 

She knows the seed lies safe below 
The fires that blast and burn ; 

For all the tears of blood we sow. 
She waits a rich return. 

She sees with clearer eyes than oura 
The good of suflerino; born, — 

The hearts that blossom like her flowers, 
And ripen like her corn. 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 107 

Oh, give to us, In times like these 

The vision of her eyes ; 
And make her fields and fruited trees 

Our golden prophecies ! 

Oh give to us her finer ear ! 

Above this stormy din, 
We, too, would hear the bells of cheer 

Ring peace and freedom in ! 

Letter from Bisliop Burgess of Maine. 

Gardiner, Maine, May 7tb, 18G3. 
My dear Mrs. Dewey : 

I have heard of your bereavement ; and I can but 
write, though I well know how little it can avail at 
this moment. Your dear son was the precious gift of 
God, who had preserved him so long to be your com- 
fort and reliance. It might have pleased God, in his 
supreme wisdom, to remove him in his youth througli 
many of the common diseases which are the instru- 
ments of his will, and through which so many fami- 
lies are made desolate. You had experience in former 
years of that kind of sorrow ; you know all that trial ; 
and you can now look back upon it, I presume, with 
submission, peace, and perhaps with a sacred satisfac- 
tion. Now, the same Lord has appointed a different 
instrumentality for his mysterious purpose, and your 
son has laid down his life for his country and for all 
of us ; with so many others which have been given 
up in this melancholy but unavoidable struggle. He 
has died in the way of honorable duty ; a sacrifice, 
the value of which God only knows and can estimate. 
Hereafter, he will be remembered with honor, and 



108 A MEMUKIAL. or 

you and his father and his brothers will ever be grate- 
ful for his unstained career and memory. But all this 
can not heal your wound, and I feel that I express 
respect and sympathy only, but have no power to 
strengthen you except by pointing you to the Source 
of all strength and consolation. He does not willingly 
afflict ; He knows and appoints that time and man- 
ner which are best. The hairs of our heads are all 
numbered, and every drop of blood which has flowed 
has been shed at a moment which He foresaw and for 
which He made provision in His wisdom and in His 
goodness. I trust your dear son feared God, and in 
anticipation of the dangers of battle, committed him- 
self to His care and mercy, through our Lord Jesus 
Christ. I did not know that he was there ; but my 
prayers, with those of millions, have been continually 
offered for such as like him were in mortal peril for 
our sake. I do not think that any one who falls in 
such a cause, simply because it is the duty of all citi- 
zens to defend their country, and he is willing to meet 
it that others may be spared, can be a loser through 
his noble act of love. It is following the example of 
Him who said, " Greater love hath no man than this, 
that a man lay down his life for his friends : ye are 
my friends if ye do whatsoever I command you." 

I beg to be most kindly remembered to all your 
family : and to assure them of my tenderest sympathy 

and sincere prayers. 

Believe me, as ever, 

Affectionately yours, 

George Burgess. 
Mrs. E. P. Dewey. 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 109 

Extract of a letter from Rev. Mr. Oviatt, Chap- 
lain of the 25th Reghnent. 

I saw him often and ahvays loved him for his man- 
liness, and equally for his gentleness and loveliness. 
I am glad that you are to recover his body, and when 
you receive it please let me know. 

That he is in a better world we can not doubt. 
The Lord greatly comfort you all ! 

Yours, with true sympathy, 

Geo. a. Oviatt. 

When Bishop Burgess left the parish of 
Christ Church, Plartford, to enter upon his 
duties as Bishop of Maine, Perkins was but a 
little child ; had the Bishop remained amongst 
us what a bond of Christian love would have 
arisen between that most faithful Shepherd and 
this young member of the flock of Christ 1 
The one walking steadily onward througli all 
the changes of life, in that path that is '' Like 
the shining light that shineth more and more 
unto the perfect day ;" and the other entering 
and following on in the same blessed pathway 
to " Glory, honor and immortality." Bishop 
B. says, " I trust your dear son feared God, 
and in the anticipation of the dangers of battle 
committed himself to His care and mercy, 
through our Lord Jesus Christ." The assur- 
ance that he did " fear God and that he had 
10 



110 A MEMORIAL OP 

consecrated himself as Christ's faithful soldier 
and servant unto his life's end," is the abiding 
consolation of those that loved him. When he 
was but eighteen years old he took upon him- 
self the vows that were made for him in his in- 
fancy in baptism, and very soon after became a 
communicant of the Church of Christ. And 
now while sorrowfully kneeling around the 
sacred table where he was wont to kneel, 
there is 

" A group of worshipers in mourning, 
Missing some one at the Sacrament." 

Yet they may follow that " one" in faith and 
trust where now he is, 

" Up above a crown'd and happy spirit, 
Like an infant in the eternal years, 
Made to grow in life and love forever, 
Ordered in his place, amongst his peers." 

At the time that young Dewey so success- 
fully accomplished his task in writing and de- 
livering his composition upon Frankincense, 
the Reverend Dr. W. was present. Turn- 
ing to Mrs. D., as the young speaker finished 
his theme, he asked, " Is that your boy Mrs. 
Dewey?" and then said, "You ought to be 
proud of him ; you ought to educate him 
for the Church." How differently his course 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. Ill 

has been ordered ! Yet who can say that the 
issues of his life may not be equal to all that 
would have been accomplished, had it been de- 
voted to tlie ministry ? It was the stern voice 
of conscience which urged him into the army. 
And how many hundreds, — thousands of our 
noblest men have gone forth like him, with their 
lives in their hands and have perished in the 
same cause — " A noble army of martyrs ! " In 
the native city of our young hero, what hon- 
orable names are added to the long array of 
those that all over our country are treasured 
amongst her jewels. Young Lieut. Charles 
T. Weld, the record of whose life is all that is 
"Lovely and of good report," who was laid to 
rest amidst the tears of a multitude, while Da- 
vid's lamentation over Saul and Jonathan, 
sounded in our ears as if for the first time, 
" The beauty of Israel is slain upon thy high 
places; how are the mighty fallen!" His 
grave is by the side of his time-honored ances- 
tors, that were gathered to their rest after long 
years of usefulness and honor. Yet the meas- 
ure of his duty was full, although his life was 
of such short duration, 

" And, though the warrior's sun has set, 
Its light shall linger round us yet, 
Bright, radiant, blest." 



112 A MEMORIAL OF 

We might speak too of young Capt. C. A. Ten- 
nant, who could hardly be restrained from the 
first call of our chief ruler to go forth in de- 
fense of his country's honor, by the entreaties 
of a parent he had never failed to honor. The 
second call came and " now 1 must go^^^ was the 
responding word of this young patriot. After 
months of brave endurance, of active duty, 
and after passing safely through the perils of 
one severe battle, he was hit by the deadly 
missile in another which ended all mortal con- 
flicts for him. A pure-minded, amiable, con- 
scientious member of the " Household of faith," 
whose last message to his friends in Christ was, 
" the hope that their prayers might be heard 
in behalf of the children of the Church sub- 
ject to so many temptations in the army." 
" Henceforth," says one of his companions, 
" let his name be cherished and remembered 
with reverence by all who have a heart to love 
and a soul to honor a filial son, a faithful friend, 
a true soldier and patriot." 

And another name which shines before us in 
bright characters is that of young Gen. Griffin 
A. Stedman.* But lately written amongst those 
that belong to the departed, on tlie enduring 
rolls of fame, a name of well earned distinc- 

* He was also a member of Trinity College. 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 113 

tion. Although but tweuty-six years of age, he 
had received the appointment of brigadier- 
general, and yet he liad not received it, for it 
reached iiis tent while he lay there cold in 
death. Faithful in the discharge of duty, brave, 
mature in mind, of a kind and gentle spirit, 
he was beloved and honored by all grades of 
his warlike companions, from the highest rank 
to the humblest, and not only in the army 
were his fine traits of character appreciated, it 
was wherever he was known. His superiority 
was apparent to all who had any intercourse 
with him ; so young, so well qualified to adorn 
and ennoble all the relations of life, his early 
removal from us must fill tlie heart with sor- 
row. 

These are but the beginning names of those 
who have gone from us, who will be seen 
amongst us no more. While we think of them 
the bright hues that used to glow above and 
around us seem to fade away in the dreary and 
lengthening shadows ; a long night of sorrow 
and darkness ! 

To Captain Samuel S. Hay den, who fell in 
the same battle and was buried in the same 
grave with Lieutenant Dewey, we must pay a 
brief tribute of sorrow and affection, and of 
honor. He was a man of such a genial and 
10* 



114 A MEMORIAL OF 

kindly nature that it was impossible not to love 
him ; while his quick insight into human char- 
acter, his strong common sense, and his 
fine natural powers were all harmonized and 
brought into hourly effectiveness by the power 
of a living faith in our Lord Jesus Christ. 

Rev. Mr. Oviatt, chaplain of the 25th regi- 
ment, says, in an address delivered at the fune- 
ral of Capt. H. Capt. Hayden was truly a 
brave man ; he was not rash, but he was 
brave according to Bacon's definition of the 
word, and united " courage with generosity and 
dignity of mind," and as an anonymous writer 
says, " The brave man will not deliberately do 
an injury to his fellow-man." 

His patriotism was as pure and self-sacrific- 
ing as ever glowed in the bosom of any man. 
He enlisted in the army not for gain, not for 
honor, not because he was weary of the routine 
of life at home, and would be an adventurer, 
but simply from a stern sense of duty. He had 
a pleasant home, he was surrounded by loving 
kindred and friends, he enjoyed the confidence 
of the community, and he had a competence 
of worldly good, with common frugality and 
industry, to enable him to support himself and 
family comfortably and to contribute something 
as he wished, to the great causes of benevo- 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 11.) 

leuce ; while he had passed the meridian of his 
years, being in the fiftieth year of his age, and 
was just at the time of life when he felt that 
he would more than ever find his peace and 
enjoyment in the bosom of his home and in the 
society of his friends. His country was in 
peril. Treason was beating against the con- 
stitution and government of the country and 
seeking most madly to rupture the Union, and 
the cry to arms was ringing tlirough the val- 
leys and over the hills of New England. The 
cry roused all the Christian patriotism in him, 
and that he might do what in him lay to put 
down this rebellion, he nobly laid himself on 
the altar and went forth to fight for his coun- 
try. As he was loyal as loyal could be, and 
was ready to fight for the preservation of the 
constitution, so did he hate the institution of 
slavery, and feel that it must and ought to be 
in due time " utterly overthrown." — Memorial 
address delivered at the funeral of Captain 
Samuel S. Hai/den, at Windsor Locks, Fridaijy 
June 19///, 1863. 



The following original verses were given to 
Mrs. Dewey by a friend as applicable to the 
brief but noble career of her lamented son. 



116 A MEMORIAL OP 

Thoughts suggested by seeing the picture of an Angel, 
with his hand resting on the shoulder of a young child, 
standing on the brink of a precipice, which is concealed 
from his sight by flowers of varied hue, — portraying the 
German idea, that so long as the child heeds the Angel's 
hand, he will be protected from harm. 

" As gently falls, in evening hour, 
The dew upon that drooping flower, 
So from the Angel's wing drops balm, 
My darling's anguish'd brow to calm, — 
He sleeps, — he wakes, — and life again 
Resumes his wonted power to reign. 
" Blest Guardian Angel ! oh ! 'tis joy 
To know thy hand rests on my boy." 

" Within his path a serpent lies, — 

One touch from its sharp fang, — he dies, — 

He counts its spots, — my darling boy ! 

He holds it like a pretty toy, — 

He lays it down, with gentle care, 

Then passes on as free as air. 

"Blest Guardian Angel! Oh! 'tis joy 

To know thy hand rests on my boy." 

" In youthful pride he now doth stand ; — 
Oh ! will he heed that angel hand ? — 
Pleasure's gay flowers, of varying hue, 
Conceal a chasm from his view, — 
One step aside, — and he is gone — 
He stops, admires, then passes on. 
" Blest Guardian Angel ! Oh ! 'tis joy 
To know thy hand still guides my boy." 



c/ 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 11' 

" His way is rough and dangers high 

Appear where'er he turns his eye. 

Ambition's chariot by his side 

O'er the rough path can smoothly glide ; 

With impulse strong he takes the rein, 

Then turns and passes on again. 

" Blest Guardian Angel ! oh ! 'tis joy 

To know thy hand still guides my boy." 

" A cross appears, — and bowing low, 
Heaven's armor over him doth throw ; 
Then from that cross there beams a light 
Which makes earth's darkest regions bright. 
Which shows that those rough paths but speed 
The faithful soldier to his meed. 
" Blest Guardian Angel ! oh ! 'tis joy 
To know thy hand rests on my boy." 

" Girded with strength he now doth stand. 
Ready for duty's stern command. 
Ambition's steeds, hoofs crimson dyed. 
Now rushing past, spread terror Avide, — 
His country calls ; — and must he go ? 
He falters not, — he meets the foe. 
" Blest Guardian ! oh ! in fear, 'tis joy 
To know thy hand still guides my boy." 
***** 

" The conflict's past, — and he is gone, — 
The sorrowing mother sits alone, — 
But will she weep, that he did give 
His life, that we in peace might live ? 
That dying thus, he drew more nigh 
To Him, who on the cross did die ? 
" Blest Guardian Angel ! guide in joy, 
The stricken mother to her boy." 



118 A MEMORIAL OF 

" And will she weep, — that to his eye, 
When those dark battle clouds passed by, 
Heaven's plain triumphant was revealed, 
Where stand the thousands who are sealed, 
Enrobed in white, a glorious band. 
With victor palms in every hand ? 
" Blest Guardian Angel ! guide in joy, 
The hoping mother to her boy." 

" And will she weep, — that wild alarms. 
And cannon's roar, and clash of arms, 
Melted in music, sweet and low. 
Which from the seraphs' harps doth flow, 
As his freed spirit took its way, 
To heaven's eternal triumph day ? 
" Blest Guardian Angel ! guide in joy, 
The waiting mother to her boy." 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY, 

Member of the Junior Class of Trinity College, Lieuten- 
ant Company A, 25th Kegiment Connecticut Volun- 
teers, killed in the Battle of the Teche, La., April 14th, 
1863. 

RESOLUTIONS OF THE JUNIOR CLASS. 

Whereas, It halh pleased Almighty God to remove, by a 
most sudden and untimely death, Lieut. Daniel P. 
Dewey ; therefore, we, for ourselves, and in behalf of 
our Class-mates, in order to express our deep regret at 
his ftite, and our respect for his memory, have 

Resolved^ That, although acknowledging, in the death of 
our friend and class-mate, the doings of an all-wise Provi- 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 119 

dence, yet we mourn his death, and regret the loss to the 
College and to the Class. 

Resolved, That to the Family we extend our heart felt 
sympathies. 

Resolved, That the Class wear the appropriate badge 
of mourning for thirty days. 

Resolved, That these Resolutions be printed in the City 
papers, and that a copy be sent to the family. 

WM. A. M. WAINWRIGHT, > Committee 
JOSEPH F. ELY, \ Committee. 

RESOLUTIONS OF THE TRINITY COLLEGE PARTHENON. 

Whereas, Tt hath pleased an Overruling Providence to 
remove by death our late beloved associate and friend, 
Lieutenant D. P. Dewey ; and whereas, this Society, 
with which he was connected, desires to give suitable 
expression to the sorrow which this bereavement has 
caused : therefore, 

Resolved, That while we bow in submission to this afflict- 
ive dispensation of Almighty God, we feel that In the 
death of our former friend, this Society has lost an earnest 
and most efficient member. 

Resolved, That while we affectionately cherish the mem- 
ory of our departed friend, who died struggling nobly In 
his country's cause, we will endeavor to emulate his manly 
traits of character. 

Resolved, That we tender our unfeigned sympathy to 
the friends and relatives of the deceased, hoping that they 
may be sustained in their affliction by Power from on 
Iliirh. 



120 A MEMORIAL OF 

Resolved, That these Resolutions be published in the 
City papers, and a copy of thera be presented to the rela- 
tives of Lieut. Dewey, as a last tribute of respect from 
those who have known and esteemed his manly virtues. 

CHARLES HUSBAND,) ^ _„^ 

C. H. B. TREMAINE, ^ ^"™""=^- 



FROM A CLASS-MATE. 

IN MEMORIAM. 

There is a grief whose silence is more speaking 
Than any words the human lips can tell, 
Too full of woe for any language — breaking 
The sad enchantment of the mournful spell. 

And yet the lips can scarce restrain the feeling 
That from the heart with words seems brimming o'er, 
And in the weakness of its woe appealing 
To those whose hearts can make response no more. 

Farewell, great heart ! gone from the toil and striving 
Gone from the struggle of the Wrong with Right ; 
Gone from the lesser to the more exalted living ; 
Gone from the feebler to the fuller light. 

Farewell, oh heart ! which, great in sacrificing, 
The full fruition of thy work shall bless ; 
Above the press of circumstances rising, 
Superior to their fretful litdeness. 

Farewell, oh heart ! most great in self-commanding, 
Enjoy the Peace — thy conflict now is done — 
The Peace of God, which passeth understanding ; 
The Peace which crowns the conquest nobly won. 

T. R. A. 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 121 

After an interval of seven months, in which 
for several unavoidable causes the body of Lieu- 
, tenant Dewey was detained at the ; South, his 
mother succeeded in her efforts to obtain the 
object of her anxious care. But not till mid- 
winter did she have that melancholy satisfac- 
tion. He was buried from Christ Church ; 
the sacred home where he had been religiously 
educated, and confirmed, and where he had 
received his first Communion. 

We copy from the Hartford Times, the touch- 
ing funeral address of President Eliot, of 
Trinity College, together with the particulars 
of the last sad ceremonies ; 

A Soldier's Funeral. — The funeral of Lieut. 
D. P. Dewey, of the 25th Regiment (killed in the 
battle of Irish Bend last spring) took place yesterday 
afternoon from Christ Church, and was very largely 
attended. A number of the officers and men of the 
regiment, the President and Faculty of Trinity Col- 
lege, and many students were present. The body was 
enclosed in a coffin covered with black cloth, thickly 
studded with silver nails and handles. A heavy plate 
bore the name and age (20 years and 10 months) of 
the deceased. Upon the top of the cofiin were several 
wreaths and crosses of flowers, the sword and cap of 
the deceased, and the torn and tattered flags of the 
25th Regiment. The bearers were non-commissioned 
officers of the regiment. At 2 o'clock the Rev. Dr. 
11 



122 A MEMORIAL OP 

Clakk and Mr. Doane met the body at the vesti- 
bule of the church and proceeded up the aisle reading 
the beautiful burial service of the Episcopal church. 
On reaching the chancel, the coffin was placed in front 
of the font and the regular service read by Rev. 
Mr. Doane. At the conclusion of the lesson, Dr. 
Clark called upon Professor Eliot, President of 
Trinity College, for a few remarks. Professor E. 
responded by walking up the aisle, till standing by the 
side of the coffin that held the remains of one of the 
most faithful of students, he pronounced the following 
eulogium : — 

Had these rites been performed, as was intended, 
in the Chapel of the College, it would have been en- 
tirely appropriate for me to have stood as I now stand, 
by these mute remains, and utter one last word of 
honor and affisction. It is much less befitting that my 
voice should be hfted up within these walls, and yet, 
as I have been asked, I am ready to bear my testi- 
mony to the character of him whose body lies before 
us. Here, in these consecrated courts, and before 
God's Altar, I give witness to the fidelity of this young 
life, often troubled, often baffled, and yet, as I believe, 
persistent and devoted, endeavoring to do his best, a 
warm, devoted friend, a clear-minded pupil, and so 
meriting not only the approval of his teachers, but, if 
I may say it reverently, the ap[)roval of his Creator. 
The days of his youth are cut short, and he is called 
away, as we are apt to phrase it, befoi-e his time. But 
what time was more truly his, than that in which he 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY. 123 

had reached the highest limit of earthly achievement 
in his self-sacrifice ? What opportunities are ours, 
as we linger on, seeking to still our listless desires or 
subdue our selfish wills ; what are ours, beyond that 
one, sudden, entire opportunity of his upon the battle- 
field ? He feared God and honored the King ; that 
is, he honored the law and the government of his 
country, and when the hour came to live or to die for 
them, he was ready to live or to die, as might be best 
for him and for them. So closed an honorable career ; 
and if we think it too brief, if we mourn the end that 
came before we were ready to have it come, let us 
remember that the life of our departed brother is 
lengthened beyond the span of ordinary lives by the 
light it enjoys and the duration it partakes in common 
with the lives of all the true and faithful who have 
passed from mortality to immortality. 

The scene during Professor Eliot's remarks was 
impressive and solemn. The sombre church dark- 
ened, the Christmas evergreens, the hushed silence, 
broken only by the sobs of the bereaved mother, all 
tended to give an additional power and effect to his 
remarks, which sank deep into the hearts of all his 
listeners. 

The body was then taken to Zion's Hill Cemetery, 
where the concluding services were read by Dr. 
Clark, and all that was mortal of Lieut. D. P. 
Dewey was consigned to its last resting-place. 



124 A MEMORIAL OP 

FROM LYRA GERMANICA. 

" When I have conquer'd ; then at last 

My course is run, good night ! 
I am well pleased that it is past ; 

A thousand times, good night ! 
But ye dear friends, whom I must leave, 

Look not thus anxiously ; 
. Why should you thus lament and grieve ? 

It standeth well with me. 

Farewell, O anguish, pain and fear, 

Farewell, farewell for ever. 
It glads my heart to leave you here, 

Redeem'd from you for ever ! 
Henceforth a life of joy I share 

In my Creator's hand ; 
None of the griefs can touch me there 

That haunt this lower land. 

Who yet o'er earth in time must roam, 

Not yet from error free. 
Scarce lisp the language of our home, 

The glad eternity. 
Far better is a happy death 

Than worldly life, I trow ; 
The weakness once I sank beneath, 

I never more shall know. 

Lay on my coffin many a wreath, 

For conquerors wreath'd are seen ; 
And lo ! my soul attains through death 

The crown of evergreen, 
That blooms in fadeless groves of he avcn ; 

And this fair victor's crown. 
The mighty Son of God hath given, 

Who for my sake came down. 



DANIEL PERKINS DEWEY, 125 

'Twas but a while that I was sent 

To dwell among you here ; 
Now God resumes what he hath lent 

Oh grieve not o'er my bier ;* 
But say, 'twas given at His command] 

Who takes it, He is just ; 
Our life and death are in His hand, 

His servants can but trust. 

That ye should see my grave, alas ! 

Shows we are frail indeed, 
That it so soon should come to pass 

Our Father hath decreed ; 
And He your bitter grief shall still. 

Think not too young am I, 
For he who dies as God doth will, 

Is old enough to die. 

Farewell, thou dear, dear soul, farewell ! 

To those sweet pleasures go, 
That we who mourning here must dwell 

Not yet, alas ! can know. 
Ah when shall that great day be come 

When these things fade away, 
And Thou shalt bid us welcome home, 

Would God it were to-day !" — Sacer^ 1865. 



* " If I never come home again you must not grieve for me, 
but rather contemplate the glorious cause in which I fell. I have 
every trust in a kind Providence and whatever He orders we 
must all submit to." Page 68. 

11* 



126 A MEMORIAL OP 

The record of this short life is now ended. 
From childhood to the years of opening man- 
hood it has been a bright career. Coming into 
the field, crossing it and vanishing into the in- 
finite beyond, like some bright planet which 
the astronomer sees through his telescope, one 
human soul ! of more value, our Divine Master 
has told us, than the whole world ! 

And what a myriad of lives have been sac- 
rificed since this terrible war begun ! Multi- 
tudes amongst them have doubtless gone to 
their everlasting rest. But when " the Lord 
write th up the people," what answer can those 
miserable men give who have brought this war 
upon us, for " the people" that have perished 
by their iniquity ? " Yengeance is mine, I will 
repay, saith the Lord." And to the oppressors 
of a helpless race a judgment is surely coming, 
for " He shall judge the poor of the people, he 
shall save the children of the needy, and shall 
break in pieces the oppressor.''^ 

May we "be purified from all our national 
sins," by this dreadful punishment which has 
been sent upon us, and may the time come when 
" Nation shall not lift up sword against nation, 
neither shall they learn war any moreP 



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